Someone To Watch Over Me
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Living with Snape is never easy, though Gavin Snape, firecaller wouldn't trade it for anything. But even a vacation canturn deadly when the Snapes get involved with the wizard-hunting Brotherhood of the Shining Path, whose goal is exterminating wizards.
1. Me and My Big Fat Mouth

**Me and My Big Fat Mouth**

**This story is told mostly from Gavin's POV, though Severus will also narrate in later chapters! Hope you all enjoy the sequel!**

**Warning: Some strong language and spanking in this chapter!!**

_* this takes place about six months after the events in Some Good Guys Wear Black_

Have you ever woken up in the morning and just _knew_ it was going to be a bad day? Well, that's how I felt the morning of April 15th. It was a Saturday and I had just graduated fifth grade yesterday, releasing me into the beginning of what I hoped would be a long, fun-filled summer, flying on my Windstorm 2000, hanging out with my twin cousins, Drew and Nick, who were only two years older, and learning more magic from my dad. Did I mention that I'm an apprentice wizard? One who has a very rare and powerful gift?

No? Well, I'm a firecaller, which means I have the ability to summon, ignite and put out any sort of fire and also have an affinity for those magics dealing with heat and light. I can also speak to and command most fire-using creatures, save for bronze dragons. Neat, huh? My other little talent is Animal Speaking, I can hear and understand any animal, reptile, or bird if I wish. Both of those talents are in addition to my standard spellcasting abilities, which at the moment aren't much. I only know how to cast three spells presently. Lumos–Light, Nox–Dark, the opposite of the Lumos spell, and Levitate–Wingardium Leviosa. But I've only just begun my training, you see.

My instructor is a famous wizard, and I also happen to be his adopted son. He was once a Potions Master, Defense Master, secret agent, and former Headmaster of a British wizarding academy. Now he's the Director of the DHI (Dark Hunter Intelligence). Yeah, that's right, my dad is none other than Severus Snape.

He adopted me a little over a year ago, taking me off the streets of Manhattan, where I used to run with a gang called the Mystic Ravens, and into his home as his apprentice and son. Lucky me. Sometimes living in the house on Lily Lane in Point Pleasant, NJ was nothing short of paradise. Other times . . .it wasn't, though nothing could be worse than Morningstar Orphanage, where I'd been left as a three-month old. That was a living hell, believe me.

Before Severus, I'd been raised by the tyrannical, God-fearing, fire and brimstone preaching H. J. Ferrous. Ferrous (may he rot in hell), used to beat me any time I used magic, even though I was just a little kid and had no idea what I was doing. Young wizards use magic accidentally until they start receiving formal training around eleven. Mentioning the words "magic" and "wizard" around Ferrous was blasphemous and cause for an instant whipping, as I'd learned to my sorrow. Actually Ferrous considered my mere presence blasphemous, now that I think back, and therefore he was always switching me. It got so bad that I began subconsciously suppressing my magic, and eventually I grew sick and tired of the daily abuse and ran away when I was eight to live on the streets.

Until I met Sev and he adopted me.

My life then took a turn for the better, until now I can't imagine living anywhere else but Lily Lane, or being Sev's son, Gavin Albus Snape.

It was Sev who named me, giving me a real name, which I'd never had before. Abandoned as a baby, Ferrous had never bothered to give me a name other than "Boy" or "Freak" or "Devil Spawn", and once I was a Raven I'd called myself Wolf, cause a wolf was a tough critter and plenty scary. But it wasn't the same and Severus refused to call me that, saying a child needed a normal name, one to be proud of. He named me for his maternal grandfather, Gavin Prince, and Albus Dumbledore, his mentor and another famous wizard.

Most of the good things in my life have come from my dad.

But on this particular morning I woke up in a lousy mood. I'd gone to bed later than usual last night, forgetting I'd have to get up early to begin my potions lesson with Dad. As a result I was grouchy and Dad scolded me for pouting and grumbling at breakfast.

I'm not a big morning person, though I'm used to rising early from my days in the orphanage, when Ferrous used to wake us at the crack of dawn to clean the place. I hate getting up early. I think ten or eleven is the proper time to get up, so I wasn't a happy camper at seven in the morning.

Dad had made a hashbrown casserole and a sausage scramble this morning, two of my favorite things. Normally, I'd have scarfed them down and gone for seconds or thirds, but I was still tired and just picked at my food, which Dad noticed (like he notices everything) and asked if I was feeling okay.

"M' fine," I growled, rubbing my eyes, which felt like a ton of sand was in them. "Jus' tired. Why couldn't I sleep in today?"

"Because I need to tutor you in potions before I start going over this new batch of cases. I told you that last night, Gavin," Dad began with a hint of sternness. "Now why aren't you eating?"

I shrugged. "I'm not hungry. I wanna go back to bed."

I knew I was whining, I knew it bugged Dad to no end when I did that kind of thing, but I couldn't help it. I was miffed about not getting enough sleep and couldn't understand how the hell he could be so damn wide awake at this hour, even with coffee. It annoyed me, so I decided to annoy him. Misery loves company.

"Too bad. I told you once before that no child of mine is allowed to lie about in bed all day like a spoiled brat." Dad lectured. "You can take a nap after our lesson. Now eat, I'm not feeding Scout this entire breakfast."

Scout was our dog, a beautiful golden magehound with the best nose in America. Right then he was sitting by my father's feet, drooling wistfully. _Sure you can give me the leftovers, Sev, _I could hear him panting. _I appreciate your cooking more than the kid does._

_Be quiet, chow hound,_ I snorted, earning me a soft growl from Scout, who thinks he's the boss of me too, according to dog pack rank. He's beta to Sev's alpha and I'm just a juvenile yet. Whatever.

I ate, a mulish scowl on my face, though I knew I ought to be grateful Dad was such a wonderful cook and I actually had decent food to eat. I'd never eaten this good with the Ravens or Ferrous, who was a cheap bastard as well as a sadistic one.

The food tasted wonderful, though I was in such a crummy mood I didn't really enjoy it. Then I fed the leftovers to Scout and washed up the dishes, my usual chores.

Breakfast over, we went down to the basement to Dad's Sanctum Sanctorum, as I liked to call his potions lab.

I wasn't allowed to enter it unless he was with me or had given me his express permission. That hadn't been the case until six months ago, when I'd borrowed–okay, stolen if I'm being honest–a Dawnstar Elixir from Dad's private stores to save my Raven buddy Smoke from midnight mushroom poisoning.

Dad takes a dim view of people who sneak around in his lab and take things without asking for whatever reason, hence this new restriction. He had said that if I behaved myself, I could one day regain unlimited access to his lab, but today was not that day.

Today's potion lesson was focused on creating an elementary burn salve, one that could cure first and some second degree burns. This was a handy thing for me to learn how to make, for even though I was immune to being burned by fire, others weren't and on the off chance I accidentally hurt someone with my talent, I could heal them. Lately, I'd been having trouble controlling it, so this lesson was a necessary thing.

Even so, I was distracted by my lingering tiredness, and managed to incorrectly add a certain amount of aloe vera juice, making my potion too runny. Dad shook his head and frowned severely at me. "What part of 2/3rd's don't you understand, Gavin?" He tapped my potions manual pointedly. "It clearly states you only need 2/3rds of a cup of aloe vera juice _not_ 3/4ths. Now this potion is useless."

"Why?" I demanded sulkily. "Why can't I just add more cobwebs or baking soda?"

"Because proportion is of paramount importance in potion making, young man," Dad replied, crossing his arms and scowling. "Adding too much or too little of a key ingredient will throw off the entire solution, and then you could end up with a toxic substance. Preciseness is a prime requirement, Mr. Snape, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," I sighed.

He waved a hand and the contents of my cauldron were vanished. "Start again, and this time pay attention and don't daydream, for Merlin's sake!"

I longed to stamp my foot and whine that I didn't want to do the damn potion over, I was too tired and all I wanted was to go back to bed and sleep for a month. I didn't, of course. I was almost eleven, way too old to be acting like whiny brat. Plus, Severus would've never tolerated such infantile behavior from me. The last thing I needed was to earn myself an hour of writing lines or be forbidden to fly my Windstorm.

So I resolved to concentrate on my potions lab and do it right this time around.

Unfortunately, I let my attention wander for a split second while letting the salve steep for fifteen minutes. My affinity for fire caused the flames to flare up a bit too high and turned the gently simmering salve into an encrusted blackened mess before I realized what had happened.

I gaped like a witless idiot at my ruined potion until Dad snarled, "Dammit, boy, how many times do I have to tell you, don't put the fire on full force? Does that look like a gentle simmer to you?" He gestured angrily at the flames leaping eagerly over the sides of my cauldron.

I quickly ordered the fire to calm down and it did, but it was too late to salvage anything.

"It wasn't my fault!" I protested. "I didn't mean to make the fire too high, it just happened. You know how fire reacts when I get near it." Fire loved me and when I was near it wanted to burn brightly, as if showing off.

Dad rolled his eyes and said flatly, "Never mind the excuses. Do it over. _Evanesco!_"

I groaned and wished myself on the other side of the earth. Then I began measuring out new ingredients. I knew it was useless to protest, Dad would keep me here until I brewed a perfect salve, no matter how long it took. That was one of his mottos–practice makes perfect, and he applied it to everything, especially magical lessons.

By the time I had brewed a successful batch of burn salve it was nearly eleven o'clock. After I had decanted it into a jar, Dad told me I could go and take a short nap until lunch.

"Maybe sleep will improve this mood you're in."

The mood _I'm_ in? I longed to say. How about you?

But I didn't dare. Such a smartass remark would land me in more trouble than it was worth. One thing Severus didn't tolerate was mouthy children, especially not his own.

Perversely, once I got in bed I couldn't fall asleep, and ended up tossing and turning, growing more and more frustrated. Lately, my temper had been flaring up a lot more than normal and even the smallest things irritated me. This past month I'd gotten into more arguments with my father than I'd done in half a year, and most of them were due to my sudden shortened fuse.

Yet I couldn't seem to help myself. My emotions, especially anger, were at a constant simmer, and I was ready to fight at the slightest provocation, as my father liked to say.

I knew he was fast growing tired of my prickly attitude. I had overheard him speaking to my big sister Arista one night about my "adolescent mood swings" and my "smartass attitude" and "uncontrolled outbursts of fire magic".

That was one of the drawbacks to my sudden outbursts of temper. Strong emotions brought my talent flaring up, and when I was angry I tended to set things on fire. Three times now I'd had pieces of parchment and once a dish towel spontaneously combust in the middle of a shouting match with my dad. In all four cases I'd managed to extinguish the blaze in seconds, but the fact that I'd set something alight without conscious thought concerned my father deeply.

Severus Snape was a man of iron discipline and control, it was what made him such a good Director and an excellent teacher, but having an apprentice with power like mine so totally out of control worried him greatly. Thus far I'd not damaged anything irreplaceable with my little fires, but I knew he was afraid someday I'd totally lose it and burn down half the house or half the neighborhood.

Much as I hated to admit it, his concern was valid. My firecalling talent was _very_ strong, probably a sixth degree level, and I didn't yet know what my limit was. Six months ago I'd almost burned down Central Park and I had killed a dark wizard with my firecasting. I hadn't meant to, but he'd been trying to kill Severus and I'd panicked and the next thing I knew, Goyle was a human torch.

_Not_ something I wanted to dwell on, believe me.

But no matter how much I regretted killing him, I'd do it over again if I had to, for I'd do anything to protect my dad or my sisters. ANYTHING.

I had drifted into a light doze when I heard Dad calling me for lunch. Groaning, I stretched and yawned, cursing his poor timing in my head.

We had pizza for lunch, not the frozen kind or take-out, but homemade. My dad cooks as good as any of those guys on Food Network, and I wasn't a picky eater. Nobody who'd grown up the way I had refused meals when offered, and so I went to eat lunch, even though I was still grumpy from not getting enough sleep.

I was on my third slice of pepperoni, my appetite had returned and I was starving, when my father announced something that would change my summer vacation radically.

"I've been meaning to discuss this with you, but I haven't had a chance to sit down and talk with my current caseload," Dad began, and I halted in mid-chew.

This didn't sound too good. I swallowed what I'd been eating and waited for him to continue, the pizza sitting like a lump of lead in my stomach.

"But now is the perfect time to discuss your magical studies, Gavin. In particular, your firecalling talent. I've noticed it's been growing stronger and more unpredictable lately. You seem to be using it without conscious thought, son, and that's not the way it should be. Any magic should be used purposefully, with a clear focused intent, not when you're in a temper."

I bit my lip and groaned softly. Not **this** again! I had heard his lecture on self-discipline so often I could say it in my sleep, by Merlin's bathrobe!

But Dad went on, ignoring my mounting irritation. "I've discussed this with Fireflash, Gavin, and he agreed that the best way for you to get your power under control is for you to spend a part of the summer with him. He also told me that centuries ago, before the Dragon Exodus, the bronzes used to mentor young wizards like you, especially firecallers, teaching them how to use their powers responsibly and control them so they weren't a danger to anyone."

For some reason, his words, delivered in that maddeningly calm and utterly reasonable tone, shot sparks off me, don't ask me why. Maybe it was because I hated people making decisions without talking to me first. I liked Fireflash, don't get me wrong, and I knew Dad was right about my controlling my gift.

But at that moment, all I could think of was that he was sending me away and ruining all my plans for a relaxing summer with my cousins and whatever. So I blurted out the first thing that came into my head. "I can't believe you're sending me all the way across the damn country!" Fireflash's clan lived in the forests of Washington State.

"You should be honored, Gavin, that he's agreed to teach you. A bronze hasn't had a wizard student in several centuries." Dad reproved.

"Yeah, right," I snapped, my temper slipping its leash effortlessly. "I know the _real_ reason you're sending me away–cause you can't handle me as a teacher, and it's easier to pawn me off on the dragon!" I shot to my feet, trembling with indignation.

Dad gaped at me for about half a second, then his eyes blazed and he growled, "Sit down and shut your mouth, boy! You forget who you're talking to. This has nothing to do with pawning you off on anyone, it has to do with finding the best teacher for you."

"Screw that!" I shouted, totally losing it. Fire bubbled in my blood, but I shoved it back down. I wasn't about to prove him right. "You've just ruined my entire summer! Not that you'd care anyhow!"

Oh, I was in a fine rage now, and not minded to listen to reason.

"_I've_ just ruined–?" Dad began, in a tone that meant I was in serious trouble if I'd been paying attention. "Now listen here, young man, I won't be spoken to like that, I'm your father, not one of your street brat Ravens." He was standing too now, and the look on his face could have slain a gargoyle, it was so fierce. I would have been afraid if I hadn't been so consumed with my own anger. "I'd better hear an apology come out of your mouth in two seconds, Gavin Albus Snape, or else!"

I opened my mouth.

But what came out of it wasn't any kind of apology.

Instead I yelled, "Fuck your apology and fuck you too, you damn bastard!"

Don't ask me _what_ I was thinking. I haven't got a clue. The words just leaped out automatically. As soon as the words left my mouth, I could've bitten off my tongue. It was SO the worst thing I could've said to him, not to mention the stupidest.

Me and my big fat mouth.

I was dead meat and I knew it. I knew it wouldn't do me a lick of good, but I tried to make a break for it, turning quickly and starting for the back door out of the kitchen.

Fat chance.

Despite being lame in his left leg, Dad can still move rapidly when he wants to. I barely made it two feet away from the table before I felt a hand close over my collar.

"That does it! I've had it with your attitude, mister!" I heard him snarl and suddenly all of my anger flickered and died, leaving only the cold ashes of dread behind.

I felt myself lifted up effortlessly, I was small and slight for my age, and he was six one and used to hauling around heavy iron cauldrons and stirring mixtures for hours. Those slender shoulders contained an unexpected strength hidden in them, one that was more than adequate to pick me up and hold me fast.

I was prepared to have my mouth washed out with soap, he'd _always_ done that when I used the F-word. What I _wasn't_ prepared for was to end up over his knee.

I shouldn't have been surprised, not after what I'd said to his face. Hell, I knew I deserved it, but this was the first time he'd ever raised a hand to me, he normally didn't discipline that way. A part of me was horrified that I'd made him lose it enough to wallop me, something I'd vowed I'd never do.

_Stupid, Gavin! So very stupid!_

I didn't bother fighting, I'd learned under Ferrous to just take my licks and that was it. And unlike Ferrous, this was one spanking I'd truly earned, to my endless regret.

Three minutes later I was set back on my feet, my butt stinging awfully from the ten sound smacks applied to it. I blinked furiously, determined not to cry like a little baby. I'd gotten a lot worse from Ferrous with belts and switches, Dad had only used his hand, but this hurt worse than anything the orphanage manger had done to me.

I know, that sounds ridiculous, but there it was. Ferrous used to beat me bloody and here I was ready to bawl my eyes out after a few smacks from Severus. It wasn't the punishment itself that hurt so much as the fact that my dad had been the one to give it. I'd disappointed him so badly he'd lost his temper and that hurt more than the swats themselves, oddly enough.

I stared down at my feet, sniffling and wincing, not daring to look him in the eye.

"Don't _ever_ speak to me that way again, am I understood?" he demanded, and he put a hand under my chin, forcing me to look up.

"Yes, sir," I whispered, biting my lip hard. Shame nearly strangled me and the look of utter disapproval in his eyes was nearly more than I could bear.

"Go to your room and think about your abominable behavior, young man," he ordered. "I'll be in there in a few minutes to discuss the rest of your punishment."

The rest of my punishment. Like that spanking hadn't been bad enough. I slunk from the room like a whipped puppy, tears falling silently down my face. _Now you've really done it, Gavin you dumbass, _I berated myself.

I was certain that after this latest incident, Dad would tell me to leave and never come back. Forget sending me away for the summer, after this he'd probably be glad if I never darkened his door again. What was I but a smart-mouthed street thief he'd adopted to fulfill his Magician's Oath, which stated that if a master wizard discovered a minor without a teacher, he was bound to take said child as his apprentice, after all? I wasn't his blood and they say blood's thicker than water. Besides, he'd been sick of me and my attitude before today's catastrophe, I thought miserably.

I'd just used up the last of my second chances, I thought and threw myself face down on my bed and cried. After about five minutes though I stopped feeling sorry for myself, sat up, blew my nose, and rubbed my bottom (it _still_ stung). I knew I'd crossed every line by behaving as I had, like an ungrateful spoiled brat, and thus I was prepared for him to come and tell me that I could get my sorry ass out of his home, he wasn't putting up with me anymore.

I'd brought him nothing but trouble and he was well rid of me, hissed the guilty part of my conscience. More tears gathered in my eyes but I ignored them, dragged my suitcase out from under my bed and began to pack. No sense in waiting around for him to tell me to go, I resolved, sick to my stomach and wishing I could go back in time and start this dreadful day over again.

**So, did you agree with Snape's punishment for Gavin's smart mouth? And Gav's reaction to it?**


	2. Patching Things Up

**Patching Things Up**

"What do you think you're doing?"

Dad's voice startled me so much I dropped the pair of sneakers I'd been holding and spun around, nearly tripping over my suitcase and falling flat on my behind. Which would not have been a good thing, given that it was still sore. "What's it look like?" rose to my lips, but mindful of what had happened when I'd shot my mouth off before, I wisely said only, "Packing."

"To go where?" he queried, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. He was standing in the doorway of my room, looking a good deal calmer and less menacing than he'd been ten minutes ago. He was still wearing his black Hunter clothes, which were what he usually wore now while teaching. They consisted of a long sleeved black shirt with the Hunter magehound crest on the right side-a dog tracking a set of clawed footprints, embroidered in gold thread--and black pants and boots. The outfit seemed casual, but it actually made Dad look commanding, as if he ever needed help with that. Sometimes he wore a long cloak over it too.

Now he was eyeing my half-full suitcase with something approaching alarm. "Fireflash isn't expecting you for another week," he informed me quietly. "So you needn't be in a rush to pack. Unless you're packing for a different reason, son. Plan on running away like a spoiled brat?" There was a scornful note in his voice at that last statement.

I flushed in spite of myself. "No!" I snapped, then swallowed hard and repeated in a much more respectful tone, "No, sir. I don't want to go anywhere, but . . .after what I did . . .I thought you'd want me to leave, so I was just . . ." I trailed off awkwardly, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. I couldn't look at him and so I glanced away, fixing my gaze on my desk, where I'd dumped out my books.

"You thought I'd tell you to get out?" he repeated incredulously. "Of all the . . .you can't really think I would _ever_ . . ." He took two steps into the room and shut the door. "Sit down, Gavin. And look at me, please." He indicated I should sit on my bed, and I obeyed, hope fluttering like a newborn moth in my chest.

The suitcase was between us, but Dad ignored it for the moment, dragging the chair from my desk over and placing it across from me. Then he sat down and gazed at me with one of his penetrating stares that seem as if he can read my mind. "Why would you ever think I'd send you away, Gavin?"

"Because you're sick of me," I told him honestly. "I keep screwing up and everything and you spanked me, so . . ."

He sighed. "Gavin, you're my son. Maybe not by blood, but nevertheless you're my child and I would sooner cut off my leg than kick you out of my house, no matter how much you aggravate me sometimes. All children argue with their parents, and all parents lose their temper with their children and punish them, but that doesn't mean it's the end of their relationship. D'you understand what I'm saying?"

"You still want me even after I made you mad enough to wallop me?" I clarified, hope fluttering madly inside my chest.

"Yes, scamp, I still _do_ want you. And always will, no matter how mad you make me. I love you. _Nothing_ will ever change that, Gavin Snape." Our eyes met and I saw that he wasn't lying, he truly meant it.

Tears welled anew in my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad," I sniffled.

"As you ought to be. I've never been addressed with such disrespect in twenty years of teaching, mister," said Severus sharply. Then he continued in a softer tone. "However, I owe you an apology as well, for losing _my_ temper and punishing you while I was angry."

Now it was my turn to gape. "Huh? You're sorry you spanked me?" I'd never in my life ever heard of such a thing. Ferrous would have rather been tortured with hot irons rather than admit he was wrong to anyone, much less the devil spawn child he was forced to raise. Yet here was my father, who'd been perfectly within his rights as both parent and teacher to punish me, actually _apologizing_ to me for it.

His mouth twitched into a sardonic smile. "In a way, yes I am. I promised myself long ago that I would never punish my children while I was angry, because I could hurt them more than I intended. I broke that promise today and for that I'm sorry, Gavin."

"But I deserved it," I found myself saying.

"Yes, you certainly did," he agreed. "But I still spanked you in a temper and that's something I regret. Probably as much as you do, I'd wager. Which brings us to the reason why you acted the way you did. What possessed you to speak to me that way, Gavin Snape? Not that there's any excuse for your behavior, but I'm curious as to what prompted this outburst. What have you to say for yourself?"

"Uh . . ." I squirmed guiltily. "I don't know."

"You don't know? You just woke up this morning and decided to swear at me?"

"No! I just . . .you see I'd planned on hanging out with Drew and Nick this summer and stuff and going flying and to the beach with Scout. And you promised to teach me some Defense spells and I really was looking forward to that. When you said I had to go with Fireflash, I just . . .it made me upset and I guess I, uh, overreacted."

"I'll say," Dad shook his head. "How many times have I told you that you need to control your temper and watch your mouth, son?"

"Too many times."

"This kind of thing is exactly why I think it best if you go and study with Flash for a month or so," Severus continued. "Uncontrolled emotional outbursts like that are dangerous, Gavin, especially now when your magic is awake and responding to them. How many times have you set something on fire when you were angry, Gavin?"

"A lot, I guess."

"Too much, and next time the consequences could be even worse than a spanking. Next time you could burn down the house or set me on fire."

I stared at him, horrified. "Dad! I'd never hurt you! I _wouldn't_!"

"Not intentionally, but you could. A firecaller has that potential, Gavin. The potential to do great harm. You know that. I knew when I made you my apprentice that you had a great gift, and in order for you to master it, I was going to have to be hard on you, because with great power comes an even greater responsibility. But even I never knew how difficult it was going to be raising a firecaller."

I hung my head, feeling unaccountably guilty. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so much trouble."

"It's not really your fault," he sighed. "You were born with the gift of fire, Gavin, and all you can do is accept it. And learn to control it. Use it, before it uses you. That's why I'm sending you to Fireflash, since a dragon has mastery over fire as well. That was never intended as a punishment, or a way to get rid of you, if that's what you were thinking. I want you to be safe, child, and right now you're a danger to everyone, sorry to say, especially yourself." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Arista thinks that part of the reason you're so angry and irritable all the time has to do with your firecalling talent. It's the nature of fire to burn and smolder, to flare up and blaze, and therefore it encourages violence. Most firecallers have short tempers, which makes them dangerous unless they know how to control their gift. Fireflash will teach you what you need to know, he's had more experience than I have playing with fire." A half-smile quirked up his lip as he said that last.

"That's for sure." I was vastly relieved to be so utterly mistaken about his intentions. And also very ashamed that I had allowed my temper to run away with me. "I'm sorry I called you . . .uh, you know. . . ."

He nodded. Then his eyes narrowed and he said, "And you're going to be even sorrier, that much I can promise you. Because now you're going to write _I will never swear at my father again_ 300 hundred times, and you've lost your broom too for a week."

I groaned, even though I'd known that was coming. Taking away my broom was one of the worst punishments he could give me, worse even than a spanking, in my opinion.

But he wasn't finished yet. "Last but not least, I owe you two minutes with a bar of soap." He summoned the dreaded bar with a snap of his fingers.

"B-but Dad!" I cried. "You spanked me already."

"That was for your disrespect. _This_ is for your filthy mouth," he said implacably. "Come here."

"I'll never do it again. Promise!"

"I would hope not. For your sake," he frowned, then grabbed me by the wrist and holding me firmly by the elbow, marched me down the hall to the bathroom.

I _really_ wished I'd never gotten out of bed this morning.

* * * * * *

Some ten minutes later I was sitting at my desk, writing lines. My tongue still felt like it was coated with that awful soap, even though I'd rinsed my mouth out ten times afterwards. I'd be lucky if I tasted anything other than soap for the rest of the day thanks to my smart mouth and Dad's old fashioned discipline.

Next time . . .wait a minute, there wouldn't ever _be_ a next time if I was smart, I vowed. And Severus Snape didn't raise any dumb kids, I thought resignedly, writing determinedly. I shifted a bit on the chair, my bottom tingled, but the sting was almost gone. Now it was my hand that was sore, from writing this blasted sentence over and over in my best handwriting with a quill.

I sighed, paused to rub and stretch my cramped fingers, and swore I'd control my temper and my tongue if it killed me. This was one mistake I would never repeat, by Merlin's purple underwear!

By the time I'd finished, dusk was falling outside my window and my stomach was staging a rebellion. My hand felt as if it were going to fall off but I had the lines done and that was all that counted.

I turned it in to my father as he was setting the table, dinner tonight was meatloaf and roasted potatoes and I was hungry enough to eat a whole cow. If only my hand could hold my fork, that is. I winced as I gripped it and of course my dad's falcon-sharp eyes noticed.

"Let me see your hand, Gavin."

I extended my hand to him, knowing it was useless to pretend it wasn't hurting. He gently cupped it, then began to rub each finger with a circular motion, using a firm but gentle pressure. I whimpered, for it hurt at first. "Sorry, but it'll be better in a bit," he soothed.

I gritted my teeth. But in another second my hand wasn't hurting at all. Dad's massage had worked like, well, magic. In fact, I wasn't at all certain he hadn't used some magic on me. I flexed my fingers experimentally and smiled. "It doesn't hurt," I gasped. "Did you use magic on me? I didn't know you could heal like Arista." My sister could heal someone just by touching them, she had a most incredible gift, far better than mine.

Dad chuckled. "No, I didn't use magic, just an ordinary old-fashioned massage. Magic isn't the answer to everything, you know. Now eat before it gets cold."

I didn't need to be told twice, I picked up my fork and dug in. Maybe this day wasn't quite so bad after all. I was relieved to know that though I'd been an abominable child, my dad forgave me for it. That too was a new experience for me.

For all his piousness, Ferrous had never gone in for forgiveness much. Or at all. He was an Old Testament Catholic, and preached relentlessly the eye for an eye doctrine and the old maxim "spare the rod and spoil the child". I'd cut my teeth on that sort of thing, and the concept of forgiveness was a foreign thing to me for the most part.

Even more so was the concept that I was _deserving_ of such forgiveness and understanding. I'd had it pounded into my head since I could walk that I was a wicked child, a freak that could use magic, and for that I was going to hell. Not the sort of thing that makes you think you're worthy of anything at all.

But Dad's hug before I went to bed that night reassured me that all was well between us again. True, I was still grounded and the Windstorm was off limits, but I could sleep without guilt clenching my stomach now. Forgiveness. It's one of the most powerful forces in the universe, greater than any fire I could summon.

Little did I know that I would test the power of forgiveness and my father's love to the limit that summer.

**So what did you think of their little talk?**

**Next: Arista visits and gives Gavin some good advice concerning their father. Thanks for all the reviews!**


	3. Arista's Advice

**Arista's Advice**

The next day, Arista came over for a visit. She's my twenty-one-year-old sister, a Master Healer, married to Drake Lockwood, who's a Dark Hunter like my dad. They've been in love since they were in school together, both of them attended Hogwarts in the same year, right along with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Talk about a class packed with talent. Over half of those wizard kids ended up being famous, especially after the war with Voldemort. Arista was known as the Girl Who Healed, ever since she cured Frank and Alice Longbottom of insanity when she was thirteen.

The Longbottoms had been tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse by the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, a Death Eater who worshipped the ground Voldemort walked on, the sick bitch. They'd been in St. Mungo's Hospital for over thirteen years, labeled incurably insane, until my sister came to Britain, met their son Neville, and decided to heal them. Everyone swore it couldn't be done, but Arista refused to believe that. Nothing is impossible with magic is her motto and she proved it that day when she went into the Longbottoms' minds and fought their own personal demons to bring them back to themselves. She used a combination of her empathic gift and her Healing talent and now they call her the Girl Who Healed.

Or maybe now they ought to change it to the Mother Who Healed, 'cause Arista's very pregnant and due in another few weeks or something like that. She's ecstatic and so's Drake. I'm happy for them, they'll be great parents, and this kid's gonna be spoiled beyond belief by my dad, being the first grandchild and all. I'm hoping it'll be a boy, so I can do all those uncle-nephew things with him when he gets older. Though a girl would be okay too. Arista says she doesn't care either way, so long as the baby's healthy. Guess that's the right attitude. They haven't decided on a name yet, though I'm betting on Severus Robin if it's a boy or Amelia if it's a girl.

Anyhow, my sister dropped in to say hi, the way she usually does on her day off. As a certified Master Healer, she usually doesn't get much time off from her job, so her visits were a real treat for me and Dad. I didn't even know she was here however, since I was out in the garden gathering valerian and tansy for a Calming Draft. Our garden was a modest one, according to my dad, it grew just enough herbs for one retired Potions Master and his apprentice. Sure, _he_ could say that, especially since he didn't have to weed the blasted thing. It was a half an acre, though you couldn't tell just by looking at it, since Dad had a glamour on it. The glamour was necessary since we lived primarily in a Muggle neighborhood. But I knew just how big it was from having had to weed every inch of it.

Weeding was one of my chores, and though I liked to complain about it, it really wasn't too bad. My grandpa had taught me various charms to keep the worst weeds out and the garden was warded against garden gnomes burrowing into it by him also, so I didn't need to worry about them, thank Merlin! Grandpa Leo's an earth mage and he knows all the tricks when it comes to growing a wonderful garden. Dad and I learned a lot from him, and our garden produces wonderfully.

Our garden is a combination of an herb garden (with both ordinary and magical herbs) and a vegetable garden. Like his Amarotti relatives, Dad insists on using fresh produce in his recipes, and so we grow nearly all our own veggies. Except celery and fancy lettuces and stuff. Those we buy, but we grow tomatoes, carrots and potatoes and lettuce, onions, cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini, stuff like that.

I came inside slightly dusty from picking the herbs, setting them on the counter in the kitchen, to find Arista and Dad sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating donuts. "Hi, Gav!" Arista smiled, brushing back a stray strand of her auburn hair from her dark eyes. She's the only one of us Snape kids that's Dad's real one, not adopted. And ironically, she looks just like her mom Amelia, the only physical feature of Sev's she's inherited is his dark eyes. But I think Dad prefers it that way, since he loved his wife to pieces. I'm the one who looks remarkably like him, since I've got the same slender build, narrow face, dark hair, and eyes.

"Hi, Arista!" I move over to hug her, which is kind of awkward, since she's so big.

"Dad's got you weeding the garden, I see," she said, ruffling my hair. "Looks like you need a haircut, scamp." That's her pet name for me, and I only allow her and Dad to call me that.

I rolled my eyes. "Now you sound like somebody's mom," I teased, smirking. "I like my hair the way it is."

"I _am_ somebody's mom, little brother," Arista laughed, patting her belly. "And you're looking like a bearded collie."

"You're right, it's getting too long," Dad piped up, and I know that's it. "I'll see to it tonight."

I groaned, for I like my hair a bit long, at least past my ears. "What for? _You've_ got long hair," I objected.

"Yes, but my hair doesn't look like rats have been gnawing at it," Dad remarked, indicating my rather wild locks. "If you'd run a comb or a brush through it every morning then maybe I'd let you grow your hair. But since you can't be bothered, it gets cut to something manageable."

"I brush my hair," I muttered.

"Every other day, sure," Dad quipped knowingly. "Wash your hands and then you can have some tea and donuts."

I obeyed, not wanting to get caught in a debate with him that I won't win. Not after what had happened yesterday. Besides, I don't want to quarrel in front of Arista. So I wash off my hands and go sit next to her, levitating three donuts from the box onto my plate with a gesture.

"You're getting better, Gavin," she said approvingly.

"_Three_, Gavin?" Dad frowned. He doesn't like me to eat too much sugar, claims it makes me hyper.

"I'm hungry," I said defensively. "Picking all those herbs and weeds is hard work."

Dad snorted. "I know, I'm a regular slavedriver." But he let me eat three donuts anyway.

I poured myself a cup of tea, then turn to my sister and ask my usual question since she got pregnant, "You having that kid anytime soon, Ari? What are you waiting for, Christmas?"

"God, I hope not!" she said, with a chuckle, her eyes sparkling. "If I'm lucky, I'll deliver him or her right on my due date, which is what I'm praying for."

I cocked an eyebrow. "If you're lucky? Can't you just, uh, use magic to make that happen?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer if it happens naturally this first time," she explained. "Tampering too much with your body's natural processes isn't wise, Gavin. Especially with something like this. Sometimes nature is wiser than a Master Healer, and I won't use magic unless I have to."

I nodded in understanding. "Except during the delivery."

"Yes, I can painblock then," she agreed. "One of the great things about being a Master Healer, I can pretty much have an almost pain-free delivery."

"Almost?" Dad queried.

"I have to be able to feel the contractions somewhat, Dad," she clarified. "Otherwise I won't know when I've got to push." She also would bounce back from the delivery faster than a normal woman, because the other Healers would heal her before she went home. That's the one drawback to her great talent, she couldn't heal herself the way she could others, only painblock.

She changed the subject then, knowing we two guys aren't too comfortable discussing labor and delivery, that's for girls. "So, you've finally graduated fifth grade, scamp. Now you can start your formal magical training with Dad."

I nodded eagerly. "He already had me making a burn salve yesterday," I told her.

Once I turned eleven, I'd only need to attend school for a half a day, the rest of the time would be spent with my dad or another master wizard, learning magic, for that was how we wizards did it in the States. Dad was my primary teacher of magic, but if he chose, he could let other master wizards or magicians in my family teach me specific disciplines, such as Herbology or Medicine. In the morning I'd go back to Seaside Integrated and continue learning what every other kid in America does, math, English, history, and science. An American wizard is nothing if not well-rounded. But once I was fifteen, I'd have graduated Muggle school and only study magic. Then, once I'd completed my apprenticeship, I could go back and get a college degree or whatever if I chose, or attend the Dark Hunter Academy. Dad has a Masters Degree in Psychology from some British university, so he can better understand the criminal mind or whatever. Then again, my father is like the educational guru of the world, know what I mean?

I could never be half as brilliant, and I know better than to even try.

"Oh? How'd it go?"

"Okay, I guess," I said, not wanting to admit I'd messed up two times before I'd gotten it right.

"Once he stopped daydreaming and started concentrating, that is," Dad said bluntly. "Before that he practically melted his cauldron."

"It wasn't that bad, Dad!" I cried. "The fire just got a little overexcited." I hastened to explain to my sister what had really happened, lest she think I was as hopeless at potions as Neville Longbottom.

In the middle of my explanation, Dad decided to bring the herbs I'd gathered down to his lab, leaving the two of us alone, which was probably what he'd intended to do all along.

"And then what happened?" she asked, and before I knew it I had totally spilled my guts to her about everything that had happened yesterday.

That was nothing unusual, since Arista's an empath and people tend to naturally tell an empath things they never would anyone else. Plus, she's also my therapist, and I was used to telling her about things that bothered me. When I got to the part about my calling Dad the F-word twice, she just shook her head and said, "Gav, buddy, that _really_ was one of the stupidest things you could have said to him right then."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled. I eyed her curiously. "He tell you what he did to me afterwards?"

She nodded. "Yes, and I hope you realize how rare it is for him to discipline like that, scamp. I think it probably hurt him as much as it did you."

"Oh yeah, right. Why do people always say that when they spank their kids, Arista? How can it be true, it's not like it's their butt getting smacked." I demanded, for it had never made any sense to me.

"You don't understand, Gavin. Let me see if I can explain it to you, though it still probably won't make much sense until you've got a kid of your own and have to punish them. When a parent says that to his child, he doesn't mean that the punishment hurts physically, but it hurts here," she tapped her chest, over her heart. "Emotionally, it hurts when you have to punish your child, because you can empathize and you don't want to hurt them, but you have to, so they learn. Dad told me that it's one of the hardest things about being a parent, and there's gonna be times I'm gonna hate punishing my kid, but I should just go ahead and do it, because kids need rules and consequences and sometimes the consequences hurt. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, but if he hates spanking so much, why'd he do it?"

"Because he lost it for a few minutes, Gavin. And for that to happen, little brother, means you were really pushing his buttons. He apologized to you afterwards, right?"

"Yeah, and that's the part I really don't get. I mean I know I deserved it, and it really wasn't all that bad, Arista. It stung like hell, but it ain't nothing compared to what Ferrous gave me. So why does he feel so guilty?"

"You really don't know?" she seemed astonished. "He's never told you, after all those nightmares you've had, why he knows exactly what you went through for all those years?" I shook my head. "Good God! And I guess it never occurred to you to wonder how he knew exactly what to say and do to you to make you feel better, huh?"

"Not really. I thought he knew what to do because he's, uh, you know, my dad."

"No, Gavin. Being a parent doesn't make you all-knowing. Especially not about what you lived through. Any other parent would've sent their kid to counseling, which he did, but our sessions were nowhere near what they should've been, because he could deal with the majority of it himself. Care to guess why?"

And suddenly it hit me. It'd been staring me in the face all this time, but I'd been too blind to see. "Because he . . .it happened to him too when he was a kid," I whispered, my gut clenching in horror.

"Yes," Arista said softly, her eyes glistening with tears. "His father beat him and called him a freak too, just like Ferrous. And that happened for most of his childhood, until his mother finally couldn't take it anymore and she left and took Dad with her when he was ten, right after he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. She was a witch, but his dad Tobias wasn't, and he always resented them for having magic."

"Why'd he marry her then?"

"Maybe he loved her once and then became frightened of the fact that she could do magic. I don't know. Neither does Dad. But he grew up poor and abused, same as you, Gavin."

"Not quite. At least he still had a mom," I reminded her. "Did his father beat her up too?"

Again Arista nodded. I wasn't surprised. It was an old story, the cycle of abuse. And suddenly I recalled several nights when I'd woken up screaming from nightmares and found him sitting on the edge of my bed, not touching me, but whispering softly in that soothing voice he had, because he knew that a whisper was all I could tolerate without going to pieces, and if he touched me I'd only shrink away in fear. Only someone who'd been through the hell of being hit over and over would know how I'd react.

It shocked me though, for I wasn't used to thinking of the indomitable Severus Snape as a victim, a lost scared little child the way I'd been. I met Arista's gaze and saw that she understood what I was feeling. "I can't believe . . .I mean he seems so strong, like nothing could ever hurt him . . ."

"I know. It shocked the hell out of me too, Gavin, when he told me one night long ago. But that's why he has such iron control over his emotions, d'you see? His father was an alcoholic too and he told me he swore long ago that he'd never become the man his father was, so he doesn't drink much and he keeps his emotions under tight control, mostly. He knows his temper is his weakness and he fights every day to control it. And that's why he doesn't usually discipline with a spanking, the way some parents would. Because the last thing he wants is to become Tobias Snape, the demon of his childhood."

"He tell you to tell me this?"

"Not in so many words, no. But I think it's something you should know, kid. So you can maybe stop getting on each other's nerves and try being a little more patient. I know he can be a pain in the ass to live with sometimes, but he loves you Gavin, never doubt that. Loves you just as much as he does me, even if you're not his biological son. Trust me on that."

I nodded, though a part of me still doubted her words. For how could he love me as much as the child of his blood? I mean, my own mother hadn't, else why would she have abandoned me as a baby? Still, I wasn't minded to argue with Arista over that statement. "He ever wallop your butt like that?"

"No. But then, I never was dumb enough to call him an effing bastard to his face, kid," Arista said. "I knew exactly how far I could go with him before he lost it, and though I drove him nuts, I never pushed him to the point where he smacked me. And I had almost as smart as mouth as you do, scamp."

"How about Trish?"

"Trish was an angel compared to us," Arista laughed. "She's never been one for open disobedience, and Dad could make her toe the line just by looking at her, most times. For her, his scoldings were as bad as getting smacked, believe me."

"Me too," I admitted. "So, are you gonna follow his example with your kids then?"

"Probably. It works pretty good, right? You've learned your lesson about swearing at him, I'd think."

"God, yes! Next time I'll just bite my tongue," I said fervently and I meant it.

"Good, because you and I both know that a wizard who can't control himself-"

"-is a danger to everyone around him," I finished the familiar saying. "That's why Dad's sending me to Fireflash for a month. So he can help me learn how to control my magic and my temper. I really don't want to be a danger to people, Arista. Not my family anyhow. But I won't mind if some dark wizards were scared of me."

"Plan on becoming a Dark Hunter then, little brother?"

I hadn't really thought about it, but right then it seemed like a good idea. "Yeah. It's practically a family tradition," I pointed out. "Your mom, Dad, Drake and Flick. Colin and Jenna too." Those last were Dad's best friends, but were actually more like siblings to him and an aunt and uncle to us. Flick was Trish's husband.

"You'll be a good one, kid," she said then. "Of that I haven't the slightest doubt."

Her words made me feel all warm and cozy inside, for I respected her opinion, she was practically the closest thing I had to a mother. I vowed then and there that I'd be the best Hunter ever, so she would be proud of me and so would Dad. I wanted so much to be better than a no account street brat, useless, the way Ferrous had said I was.

"Once I learn to think before I act, that is," I admitted, for that was one of my greatest failings. It was also the one Dad was forever scolding me about.

"You will, kid. Give yourself a few years," Arista said sagely. "If Harry Potter could learn to look before he leaped, you certainly can, Gav."

"I pray for that miracle every day, Arista," said Dad, returning from his lab at last. "Someday my prayers will be answered, right, scamp?"

"Someday, yeah, Dad, I promise," I said, and smiled up at him. "When you're old and feeble and toothless," I added, smirking.

"When I'm what?" he mock-growled. Then he gave me a gentle swat on the bottom, for I'd been reaching over to get another donut when I'd said that and he had come up the stairs behind me. "That might happen sooner than you think, boy, if you don't mind your manners."

"I'll try, sir," I said.

"Please do. Because I doubt you want a drooling old wizard for a mentor," he added and smirked at me. Then he put an arm about me and hugged me. "Gavin, what am I going to do with you?"

"Love him, Dad," answered Arista. "Just the way you did with me and Trish."

"An excellent idea, Arista," Dad agreed. Then he smiled down at me. "She gives good advice, son. Might I suggest you follow it as well?"

"Sure."

Now it was Arista's turn to blush a bit. "Well, I learned from the best. Now what's for lunch? Because I am starving, all of a sudden."

We had been going to make tacos for lunch today, so I glanced sidelong at my father and said, "Uh oh, Dad. We'd better triple the taco recipe, since Arista's eating for two now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, scowling at me. "Are you saying I'm fat, kid?"

"Umm . . .you said it, not me!" I laughed.

"Why you little brat!" she growled, pretending to be furious with me. "I ought to swat you a good one, Gavin Albus Snape."

"No, please! I don't want to be responsible for destroying the kitchen," I said, smirking.

"Destroying the kitchen?" she repeated.

"Yeah, from all the things you knock over trying to catch me," I explained.

"Gavin, you little . . .!" my sister began, rising from her chair and starting to come around the table.

I pretended to cower away in fear. "Help, Dad! Don't let the Big Bad Mommy Rhino hurt me!" I ran to hide behind my father.

"Now I'm a _rhino_?" came Arista's outraged cry. "Oh, you're really asking for it, kid!"

"I agree," said Dad, then he reached behind him and dragged me out, the traitor.

I pretended to struggle, but I was laughing too hard.

"Here, Arista. Teach him a good lesson."

"Oh, I will," said she, and then she hugged me.

"Ahhh! A fate worse than death!" I cried.

"Next time, behave!" she ordered, and let me go.

I was still smirking as I turned to get the ground beef from the fridge.

That was when she swatted me with the dishtowel.

I yelped and glared at her. "No fair!"

She laughed. "Never tease a Snape, Gav. We always get even."

I stuck my tongue out at her, then went to help my father make lunch. I would take Arista's advice to heart, for my sister was almost never wrong. Like father, like daughter.

* * * * * *

Later on that night, I was lying on the couch, drowsing after studying my Defense text, Dad was sitting next to me, reading over some briefs from work. He always had a mountain of paperwork as Director, one of the drawbacks of a civilized society, he said once, and he usually brought some of it home to go over. When he'd wrapped up a case, he sometimes shared the details with me, such as the alias the perp used, what he'd done, and the sentence handed down. Usually that was a life sentence in Inferno, the wizard prison, but occasionally not, depending on the crime the wizard was in for. Thieves and frauds never got life, but they did get a lengthy sentence and were required to do reparation work for those they'd stolen from. Premeditated murderers, rapists, and those who practiced ritual sorcery and dark magic ALWAYS got life, unless the Hunter sent to bring them in killed them first. Hunters were allowed the use of deadly force if their suspect resisted arrest, and most of the really bad criminals opted to go down fighting rather than be hauled into a court and left to rot in the bowels of Inferno.

Inferno was located underground somewhere in the wilds of upstate New York, though the only person who knew the true location was the Director and the President of the AMA. Not even the Hunters knew where it really was, they all had limited Memory Charms put upon them after they'd brought a prisoner there. This was so no criminal could try and get the location out of a Hunter. It was also why the Director was among the most hated enemy of any necromancer. Not that this seemed to bother my dad any, or so it always seemed. Then again, maybe he just hid it well. He was extremely good at his job, the ratio for capturing dark wizards had gone up thirty percent since he'd become Director over four years ago. For that alone, his name was practically a household legend, like our dog Scout's.

That was why Arista's revelation had surprised me so much, for it had never occurred to me to wonder about his childhood before this. I'd assumed he'd had a pretty normal one, given who and what he was. Now though . . .I looked at him with new eyes and it made me respect him even more, if possible. For he was a living example that you could walk out of the nightmare whole and become something better.

I yawned and snuggled deeper into the blanket I'd wrapped about me, my head resting on his knee. He absently ran his hand through my hair, which had been newly trimmed, much to my disgust. Though even I had to admit it looked better now. "Tired, son?"

"A little," I murmured. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever get in trouble for being a smartass when you were a kid?"

He was silent for a moment. I thought maybe it was because he was mad at me for asking something so personal, but then I saw him smirking. "Yes, scamp. I was not a perfect child by any means. If your grandmother Eileen were alive, I'm certain she could tell you plenty of stories about how I misbehaved."

"What did she do to you?"

"About the same as I do to you now. I use her methods of discipline mostly. I find them much more effective than my father's."

I quirked an eyebrow up, and he answered my unspoken question. "My father's preferred method was a belt or a stick."

I shivered involuntarily and he patted my shoulder. "There now, you know I'd never use any of that on you, son. I find a lecture and grounding works as well as a strap."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, and was profoundly grateful for that understanding. But I couldn't resist adding, "So does that mean you'll never spank me again?"

"If you can promise you'll never swear at me or address me so disrespectfully again, then yes. Or steal anything. But do any of those things again, Mr. Snape, and you'll end up with a sore bottom. As my mother was fond of saying, an ounce of pain now is worth a pound of regret later."

I gaped at him. "Then your mom . . .?"

"Yes, Gavin. I had a smart mouth too when I was your age and like you I got spanked for it a time or two. Eventually I learned better, as I hope you will."

"Like father, like son," I remarked and he chuckled.

"Just so, scamp. You couldn't be any more like me then if you'd been born to me, Gavin."

"Really?"

"Really. Because it isn't blood alone that makes a family, child. It helps, but it isn't strictly necessary."

"It's not?"

"No. It's not what's on the outside that counts, but what's in here," And he tapped his heart emphatically. "Love makes a family, Gavin. That's what makes me your father and you my son. Love. Love is the strongest force in the universe. Beyond blood and magic. And if you don't believe me than look in the Bible, for was that not the message Jesus preached to the world, _Love ye one another_?"

"It sure was," I said, smiling. When he put it that way, who was I to argue?

He resumed reading, his hand still stroking my hair, an action that I found very soothing and soon my eyes closed and I fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that I was loved and safe, and always would be so long as Severus was there to watch over me.

**So, how did you like that little family scene? Yes, Severus does become a grandpa in this story!**

**Next: Gavin stays and trains with Fireflash and other bronze dragons for a month.**


	4. Dragon Wisdom

**Dragon Wisdom**

A week later I was riding on Fireflash, heading for the wilderness that was Washington State, where the bronze dragons dwelled. Before I left, Dad admonished me to be on my best behavior, for the bronze dragons don't tolerate mouthy apprentices any more than he did. I promised him I would, because I'm not suicidal, and the last thing I'd ever want is to get a dragon mad at me.

Flash told Severus that he'd have me back within a month or so, maybe longer if it looked like I needed more time with him. The Director told him to take all the time he needed, then he hugged me and told me to be good and learn whatever Flash required. I agreed and hugged him back, knowing I was going to miss him, for this was the first time I'd ever been away from him for any length of time, unless you count the two days I was a guest of the Shifter-a.k.a Draco Malfoy six months ago. But this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I reminded myself, one that most wizards in America would give their right arms for. To study with a bronze dragon, even if it was only for a month, was a great honor.

So I said goodbye to Dad, Scout, and Nightfall, Sev's owl, who told me they'd keep my father company until I came back, mounted Fireflash and soared through the sky to the dragons' sanctuary. Riding Flash was a breathtaking experience, better than even riding my Windstorm. This was partly because Flash flew so very quickly, close to seven hundred miles an hour, and also because he occasionally did aerial acrobatics inbetween flying.

I loved those daredevil stunts, they made my heart race and my blood quicken, and they were plain fun. I was perfectly safe, for the straps of the dragonsaddle held me firmly in place, so there was no possibility of falling. Flash explained to me as we flew, that the place we were going to was a game preserve, which meant that most of the wild animals that lived there were off limits to hunters. Human hunters, that is. The bronzes still hunted deer or elk at will in the forest, though they mostly preferred salmon and sea kelp to venison. He also said that the caves I'd be staying while he taught me were only a temporary place for him and a few of his relatives, they weren't anything close to a bronze's real lair, which no human was ever permitted to know the location of.

Even so, I knew it was another privilege to be allowed to live with them for a time, temporary living quarters or not. I was both excited and curious to see the caves Flash had spoken of, which were close to Mount St. Helens, one of few active volcanoes in the US. The caves were beside a large river with a huge waterfall, which made it a prime spot for the bronzes to fish for salmon, one of their favorite foods.

It was one of mine as well, so I wouldn't mind if we ate it a lot. Like I said before, I'm not picky about food.

"Are there a lot of your relatives over there, Flash?" I asked, eager to meet other dragons.

"Depends on what you mean by a lot, Gavin," he answered, turning his head towards me slightly so I could hear him over the noise of the wind kicked up by his wings. "Right now there are four of us living near the Crystal Falls, as Sunstrike calls them. I'm one, Sunstrike's another, my mother Citrine is visiting us for a bit, and then there's Spark, my young cousin, who's also my apprentice."

"You've got an apprentice? Like a master wizard?"

"Yup. When a dragonet's old enough, that means over a century, he or she apprentices to another dragon in the same Clan, to learn magic and a lifepath, like a career for you humans. My lifepath is as a Hunter Guardian, and that's what I'm instructing Spark in. When he's older, he'll join the Dark Hunters and Sev will assign him a human partner, much like I was assigned to work with Amelia, Sev's wife. But he's got a ways to go till then."

"Do you dragons get to choose what you'll be? Or do you have to follow in your father's footsteps?"

"No, we're not bound by tradition to a particular path. But most of the dragons in the Brightwings clan do tend to become Guardians and Council Leaders. Your clan is determined by your father, according to custom. Spark's father was Aventurine, who was killed by the dragonslayers over six years ago," Fireflash said, referring to the gang of renegade wizards that had begun hunting and killing bronzes until Severus, Arista, Drake, Flash, Scout, and Sunstrike had put a stop to it. "His mother, Ambersong, is of the Fire Spark clan, but she wanted her son to be a Hunter, and so honor his father's memory. Spark felt the same, and so he was sent to me to mentor, as I was once apprentice to Aventurine. It's customary for a dragonet to be mentored by a dragon who is not his parent, for the mentor will be less likely to spoil the dragonet and discipline him firmly if necessary. Also it strengthens the bonds between dragons if we teach and learn from one another."

"Strengthens the bond between wizard and dragon too."

"Indeed, and if this little experiment with you works out the way I'm thinking it will, I'll bring up that point at the next Council meeting, and recommend we bronzes begin tutoring young wizards again, the way we used to long ago."

"I won't let you down, Flash," I promised.

"Good. I hope you and Spark will become friends as well, he needs to learn how to interact more with humans if he's going to become a Hunter's partner someday."

"I'd like that," I said shyly. Actually having a bronze dragon for a friend would be the ultimate in awesome.

We completed the rest of the flight, it was about three and a half hours long, in a blur, with me napping for some of it and Flash singing for the rest of it. Fireflash loves to sing, he's got a beautiful voice, and knows as many songs as a contemporary DJ.

In no time at all we were settling in for a perfect landing atop a large slab of rock next to a thundering waterfall. "Home sweet home for the next few weeks, Gavin," he announced before folding his wings tight against his body.

I undid the straps on the dragonsaddle and slid off his shoulder, glancing about eagerly. I couldn't wait to see my new pad.

* * * * * *

The cave complex, which was gigantic, and partly screened by the rushing waterfall, was formed of smooth igneous rock in a striation of colors. I'm showing off my newly learned geology vocabulary here, can you tell? The main area of the complex had been worn smooth by water and the bronzes had smoothed it out even more with their magic, so you could walk across it without tripping. The noise from the waterfall masked any sound coming from inside the cave, which was what the bronzes had intended, so they didn't need to resort to magic to keep from being discovered by a chance hiker.

Not that this part of the preserve got many people backpacking across it, it was pretty remote, and most of the big tourists and hikers preferred to go closer to St. Helens. Which suited me and the dragons just fine. Dragons learn early how to mask their presence from humans, and Flash promised he'd teach me as well, so I wouldn't have to worry about some Muggle coming up on me as I was casting something. Subtle is a bronze's middle name.

The top of the cave was lit by several large stalactites, which also radiated a comfortable source of heat. The stalactites were colored a soft amber, green, and blue. Their glow was soothing to the eyes, yet provided ample light for me to see and read by. There were four rather large-nests, I guess you could call them, where the bronzes slept off to the right of the main cave. These were large hollows lined with dried sea grass and shed scales, bronzes find shed scales comfortable to sleep on, or so Flash says. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

There was a large golden cushion set just below the stalactite lights, presumably for me, and a small wooden table beside it as well, looking as if it had been carved from a single piece of redwood.

"Your bedroom's through there, kid," Flash said, coming into the cave behind me. He swung his snout to indicate the left hand tunnel. "Hope it's okay, we haven't had to create furniture for a person in awhile."

"Create?" I stared at him. "You mean you made this stuff by magic?"

Fireflash snorted, his aqua eyes whirling in amusement. "Yup. Had to, it's not like we can go and shop at the nearest Wal-Mart or whatever. Sunny did most of it, since she's better at that kind of thing than me or Spark. Check it out."

I did. The bedroom was twice the size of mine at home, and the cave walls were decorated with forest scenes complete with animals that moved. The floor of the cave had a large throw rug across it that would have been right at home in some sultan's palace. It was done in blue and gold tones.

The bed was curved at both ends, rather like a sleigh, and like the table was formed of one piece of redwood. There was a silky comforter atop it with swirled patterns of blue and green and gold, rather like the sea. When I touched it, it felt like the most incredibly super soft silk ever. "Hey, what _is_ this stuff, Flash? I've never felt anything this soft."

"Dragon silk, kid. It's made from a combination of sea silk fronds and a thin layer of our scales, spun with magic. It'll keep you toasty warm in the winter and cool as a sea breeze in the worst of summer heat. And the pillows are griffin down. My mom made this for you, she knows all the spells for fabrics and stuff, it's a specialty of her clan, along with healing."

I sat down on the bed, and found it was like sitting on a cloud. "Awesome. I'll have to thank her, Flash."

The rest of my things were here, transported by magic. My trunk with all my clothes and school supplies stood against the wall, near the redwood desk and a soft cushioned chair with wheels. Another large stalactite was emitting a soft amber glow. Next to the bed was another small table.

"Well? What do you think?"

"It's great," I said honestly. I noted my broom was also hanging on the wall, I'd brought it so I could fly by myself and not be totally dependent on the dragons' wings.

"There's a bathroom through the small door there," Flash indicated a small wooden door. "It's got a natural drainage system, and the bathtub is actually a natural hot spring. We can alter the temperature for you if you think it's too hot."

I grinned. "Don't worry about that, Flash. I'm a firecaller, remember? I like to broil myself."

"Right then. I'll leave you to get unpacked or whatever and then I'm going to hunt for a bit. If you're hungry, just go out to the table and request some food, it'll give you pretty much whatever you want. We weren't sure what you liked, so we decided a dinner spell like the house elves use was easiest."

"No problem, Flash. Where are Sunny and the others?"

"Hunting probably. They'll be along in a few hours. We can make introductions then. Eat, unpack, and take a nap if you want. I'll see you in a bit." He started for the cave entrance. Then he looked back over his shoulder at me and said, "Oh, and you might want to give Sev a call, let him know you got here safe and sound."

"Good idea." I was glad Flash had reminded me, for I'd forgotten that Dad had asked me to do that. Fireflash vanished through the waterfall, leaving me alone to get settled in. I quickly turned the ring on my right hand, which was connected to Dad's spellophone, and called him. Then I began to unpack my things.

Once I'd gotten all my magical books out, I decided to take a break and eat something. I walked out to the small table, squinting, and trying to determine what kind of spell was on it. But though I could sense plenty of magic about me, I couldn't tell the exact spell being used on the table. Dad had told me that bronzes are experts in hiding their spells from wizards, so I wasn't too disappointed that I couldn't figure it out.

I laid my hand on the table and asked for a ten piece chicken McNuggets, fries, barbecue sauce, and a large Coke. I rarely got to eat fast food and decided to indulge myself for once. It appeared on the table with a soft pop, piping hot and crunchy in the case of the fries and nuggets and ice cold for the Coke.

"Wicked spell! God, I wish I knew that one," I said in envy, then settled down in the cushion chair and began to devour my meal. Afterwards, I felt kind of sleepy, and so I went to take a nap and slept like a baby.

I woke up to find a set of huge green eyes peering at me.

They belonged to a young bronze dragon with scales the burnished orange and gold of a leaping bonfire. He was about three-quarters the size of Fireflash and his wings were a darker gold than the mature dragon's.

"So this is the firecaller, hmmm? Welcome to Camp Crystal. I'm Spark, of the Brightwings clan, son of Aventurine and Ambersong."

I sat up, blinking sleepily, and held out a hand. "Hi. I'm Gavin Snape, son of Severus. Pleased to meet you."

Spark carefully grasped my hand in his huge forefoot, which had his talons retracted, much to my relief. Like some cats, bronzes have retractable claws, and their forefeet are very flexible, almost like a pair of hands. "Is it true you are the offspring of Dragonfriend Severus Snape, who helped my mentor Fireflash destroy the dragonslayers?"

"Yeah, he's my dad. And my sister Arista's another Dragonfriend, she's a Healer."

"I know of her also, she saved Flash from dragonbane poisoning," Spark said approvingly. "You come from a very honorable lineage, wizard Snape." Then he inclined his head to me in a gesture of respect.

I blushed, for I wasn't used to being treated with such deference. After all, it wasn't me who'd done all those things to save the bronzes. "I know. But you can just call me Gavin, okay? Your lineage is nothing to sneeze at either. Flash says your dad was a hero, a great Dark Hunter."

"He was," Spark sighed sadly. "I curse the day that dragonslayer Crouch ever drew breath. My father's loss was a great one, especially for my mother. She has vowed never to take another mate."

I nodded in understanding. "Kind of like my dad after his wife died. He says that no other woman could ever replace her and so he'll never bother looking."

Spark looked puzzled. "But is not his wife your mother also?"

"Nope. Amelia's Arista mom, not mine. I never knew mine, she abandoned me when I was a baby. Severus adopted me and that's how I became his son."

"Ah. You are the son of his heart, and therefore doubly precious," stated Spark simply.

I blinked. "Why do you say that?"

"Is it not so? For did he not choose you out of all others? A child of your blood you must love, but a child of your heart is a gift that you choose and therefore beyond measure. So we bronzes say. Adoption among us is a rare thing, but when it occurs, the adopted son or daughter is given the same status and rights as a blood offspring, and called a child of the heart, beloved forever and always. Is it not the same with you humans?"

I hesitated for a moment. How many kids had I known from the orphanage that had gone on to foster homes or been adopted by people who only wanted an extra pair of hands or whatever? _Blood is thicker than water, that's why you'll never be the same as a child born to real parents, _so Ferrous used to say to us. "Sometimes it's like that. If you're lucky to get adopted by decent people," I said quickly. "Like I was with Sev."

Spark seemed satisfied with this answer, then asked, "Have you progressed far with your magical training? I am counted a third level caster, according to dragon rank."

"Uh, I only just started my magical training with my dad. But my firecalling talent is pretty strong, that's why Fireflash agree to tutor me."

"Flash is a good teacher, if a bit hard sometimes," Spark said. "Follow me please, Gavin. Lady Citrine and Lady Sunstrike are in the large cave, waiting to meet you."

I slid off my bed and followed him out into the main cave, where I was introduced to Citrine, who was Flash's mother and a dragonhealer. She was a member of the Council of Seven, which was the ruling body of bronzes. So too was Flash's girlfriend, Sunstrike, whom I'd met before.

Both females greeted me cordially, asking me how my flight was and if I'd rested enough. I said yes, and asked if I might take my broom and go flying for a bit.

"Fine, just remember not to let any Muggles spot you, kid," warned Flash.

"I'll go with you," Spark said swiftly. "How fast can that broom of yours fly, Gavin?"

"It's a racing broom, so it can go very fast." I answered.

Spark's eyes were glittering. "Shall we see who is faster, your broom or me?"

"Now, you two be careful," Citrine admonished. "No racing like a wind dervish, Spark, you hear me? You don't want to seriously injure Gavin, he's our guest."

"Yes, Lady. I'll be careful."

"Don't worry, ma'am," I put in quickly, before she could decide to forbid us to go flying. "My broom's got protection spells and all that safety stuff on it. Dad insisted before he'd buy it, so even if I fall off I won't get hurt."

Citrine seemed relieved. "That's good to know, considering the way you youngsters fly these days."

We took that as a dismissal, and I levitated my Windstorm to me and was off and flying before Spark had spread his wings. That's one advantage to being a small wizard with a Windstorm 2000, we can mount up and fly quick as blinking.

But despite my fast start, it wasn't enough to keep ahead of Spark, who could fly like a streak of lightning. At first that's all I saw of him, a bronze blur shooting past me. Then I kicked my broom up to its fastest speed and took off after him.

My Windstorm was really fast, a thing which I knew probably makes Sev wonder why the hell he agreed to buy it for me, considering I'm a speed demon and not always careful of my safety as I should be. Then again, that's why he insisted on all the safety spells. "C'mon, baby, let's show him what you've got," I whispered to my Windstorm, delighting in the screech of the wind in my ears and whipping through my hair.

I quickly looped around Spark, who had paused slightly to give me a dragonish grin. "Not bad . . .for a wingless human, that is!"

"Ha! I bet I can dust you with aerials," I challenged, referring to the acrobatic stunts flyers did at the air shows.

"You're on, Snape!" Spark cried, and proceeded to do a slingshot into a 180.

I rose beside him, mimicking his maneuver slightly, but then adding a three-quarter corkscrew twist at the end.

That maneuver left me slightly light-headed, but it was extremely fun.

I followed that up by a Spinning Dervish, which is a maneuver where you spin around and around until you're doing something around two hundred plus miles per hour and then you turn and loop in elongated spirals all over the sky.

It's a wickedly quick maneuver and it can make you sick unless you know how to spot-that's when you fix your eyes on an unmoving object for the length of your spin. I knew how to spot, I'd done this kind of thing before, and I think I surprised the scales off my new friend by how well I came out of that spin.

"Huh. You may give me a bit of competition, young Gavin," Spark snorted, then began a zigzag pattern across the sky that turned into spiraling death drop.

I hated to admit it, but Spark was superb at aerials, but I wasn't giving up yet. We flew and played for over an hour, challenging each other to even more crazy flying stunts, upside down, backwards, slingshot around the trees, diving down to the river and then skimming over it at something around a hundred and fifty miles an hour.

I was having the time of my life, and thanking God Severus wasn't there to see what all I was doing on my broom, he'd of throttled me for risking my neck that way, protection charms or not.

Then Spark got the bright idea of blowing rings of fire and having us fly through them, each one a different shape and size.

I did, for unlike most wizards, I didn't need to fear getting burned. Only I forgot that my broom wasn't fireproof, and I caught the tail end of it on a flame doing a quick fly through.

Luckily, I put it out before it could do much more than singe a few twigs. Still, it had been closer than I'd liked, and after that we agreed to call it quits and head back to the cave.

"You're a pretty good flyer-for a mere wizard!" chuckled my new friend.

"So are you. But I'll dust you next time," I said, smirking up at him.

"We'll see," he laughed, then banked and glided down towards the waterfall. "Tomorrow you start you real lessons, so I doubt we'll have much time to fly the next couple of days," Spark commented.

I sighed, for that little flying contest had made me forget, temporarily, why I was here. Still, perhaps these lessons weren't going to be too bad. I mean, Flash couldn't be any stricter than my dad was when he taught, right?

* * * * * *

I soon learned that Fireflash's methods were unique, unlike any teacher I'd ever had before. I called him sir out of reflex, I'd gotten so used to addressing my father that way when he was teaching, but other than that Flash wasn't all that formal with me.

We had our lessons in the middle of the large cave, with him lying on the floor in front of me and me sitting on my comfy cushion. "One of the first things I want you to learn, Gavin, is to trust yourself," Flash began, speaking in what was, for him, a soft tone. "By that I mean you should feel comfortable making decisions with your power, how you're going to use it and all. This is important, because ultimately you're going to have to make your own decisions about what and how your magic is used for, without the advice of your teachers or family. Now, your father said you seem to have some issues with impulsiveness . . ."

I winced, and wished my dad wasn't so damned honest. I mean did he _have_ to tell everybody and his brother about how I couldn't think before I acted? Jeez! "Yeah, sometimes," I admitted quietly, knowing it wouldn't be smart to try and cover up my shortcomings, bronzes hate liars.

"That's a common failing in young ones of any species," the dragon said evenly, sounding slightly amused. "So we'll work on that, since it's in your best interest to think before unleashing your power, young firecaller. Which brings me to the way you can bring your talent under control. In order to impose limits on yourself, we must first discover your range, young Snape. I need to know exactly how strong of a fire you can summon and how far you can cast it before I can even begin to impose limits on you. So then, our first order of business is going to be you calling up a fire and making it burn as hot as you possibly can."

"Okay. I can do that. But where? Not in here."

"No, for that we're going to the lava fields, where any fire you summon won't damage any plants or wildlife." Flash said. "Hop on my back." He summoned the dragonsaddle with a word and I climbed on.

Once we'd arrived at the lava fields, which were pillows of hardened black lava behind the smoking St. Helens, Fireflash told me to conjure fire, as much as I could and let it burn as high and fast as I could make it.

I closed my eyes, feeling for the connection inside myself, and then I threw off the shields I had put up and let my power run unchecked, the way I hadn't done since that day in Central Park. Flames roared up in a huge swath surrounding me and the dragon in a sixty foot ring of fire.

My eyes glowed fire, which is the mark of a true firecaller, and my skin felt all prickly, but I was not harmed by the fire. In fact I was throwing off heat myself, but I barely felt warm. I encouraged the ring of fire to spread and burn higher.

It obeyed, expanding to double its size and the flames surged to over twenty feet high, close enough to set a tall tree on fire, if there had been any trees standing in the lava field. I could feel the fire dancing and flickering in my consciousness, eager to burn, wanting to slip free of my control and rage, devouring whatever was in its path.

But I held it back, soothing it softly with my mental command. _Wait. Not yet. Be still._

Sparks were flying everywhere, and Fireflash blew a slight tongue of dragonfire into my fire ring, turning the orange flames a brilliant white for a brief moment. "Impressive. Most impressive. You're at least a sixth level summoner, if not a seventh. Now can you put out what you've summoned?"

I nodded, and concentrated hard. Putting out the fire was harder than it sounded, for it was like a living thing and it felt like I was slowly smothering it, but in the end my will prevailed, and the ring of fire dwindled to ash.

"Good. Now I know what I'm dealing with," the dragon said calmly. "There hasn't been one with your talent in, oh, some seven hundred years. The last was a young girl back in the time of Merlin and Arthur. Such strong talent tends to skip several generations, which is a good thing, otherwise there'd be trouble training all those firecallers properly. Come, let's return to the cave and I can begin your next lesson."

We flew back to the cave and Flash resumed his lecture inside. "One of the key to controlling fire is knowledge, Gavin. To exert any kind of control over it, you must first understand it. And in order to understand it you must first learn to listen to it."

"How?"

"By paying attention," Flash said dryly. "Watch," he ordered. Then he blew a short stream of dragon fire and held it out on his forefoot. It danced up and down, glowing with brilliant white and blue colors.

That's because it's hotter than a normal fire, hence it's color. Ordinary fire is orange and red, but the hotter the fire the more it turns to white or blue. Dragonfire burns hotter than anything, which is why it's white and blue. "Listen to the fire, Gavin," Flash ordered. "What is it saying?"

I cocked my head and went still, trying to do as he asked. I could hear, over the insistent hush of the falls, the fire purring in my head. It reminded me of a lazy kitten, sleepy and content. It hissed softly and crackled, reminding me that it could burn even more brightly if I wished to play with it. But it was not hungry, like the flames I'd conjured out in the lava field.

No, the dragonfire was, calm . . .merry almost . . .content to exist as a single tongue of flame.

"Well? Did the fire tell you something?"

"Yes, sir. It's happy . . .I mean it doesn't want to burn things to ash, it just wants to glow." I frowned, trying to put into words what the fire was feeling. "It's, um, content."

"Very good. You've listened to the firesong and discovered that it can be a force for light as well as destruction. Like everything, there is both a dark and a light side to fire. In order for you to command it, you must understand both sides."

He banished the single tongue of flame with a breath, then told me to summon up flame of my own. "Don't do anything with it yet, Gavin. Just hold it and listen, let it be."

I spent an hour just listening to the fireball I conjured, occasionally rolling it about on my palms, playing with it. I became one with the little flame, and discovered that fire was not always the all consuming destructive force everyone thought. Fire could be gentle, such as when it lit up a room, or warmed a set of clothes hung over a fireplace mantel. It could be giddy, such as when it roasted marshmallows over a campfire. It could also be playful, as when I tossed balls of it into the air and caught them again.

It could be patient, such as when you banked the embers of a stove for the night, so it could provide heat for a cabin or something. Then it hissed and waited sleepily for you to stir it to life again, like a drowsy dragon.

Fireflash encouraged me to play with the fire I conjured, experimenting on what I could do with it. Here I had no fear I'd accidentally burn down my house or Severus's library, or hurt anyone, so I was free to let my imagination roam. I could juggle many balls of colored flame, wrap myself in a cloak of fire, and make the fire into shapes of different kinds.

I was lucky my immunity to fire extended to the clothes I was wearing, else I'd have gone through clothes like well, wildfire, and caused my father to wonder just what the blazes (no pun intended) was going on out here. Not that the dragons would've cared a bit if I wandered about starkers, they didn't see what the big deal was about people and clothes, since they didn't need them.

As I learned more and more about the intimate nature of fire, how it could be soft as well as harsh, I also managed to get more of a handle on my temper than I'd ever been able to before. The exercises Flash had me practice, listening to the fire's voice and being one with the flame, weren't all that hard to do, but they did wear me out more than I realized. That first week I found myself going to bed right after supper, exhausted, and falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Now that was something I'd only done at home if I was sick or being grounded for something. My father would've been shocked speechless.

Fireflash merely grinned when I remarked on how tired I was, and said only, "That's how you know you've been studying properly, Gavin, when you're too tired to see straight."

But it wasn't all lessons everyday. Flash knew of the importance of having fun and all work and no play makes for a cranky apprentice. So we went flying every four days or so, or swimming in the Pacific, where the dragons taught me to deep sea fish for tuna, their favorite food, using a bubble charm and a pressure regulating spell. It was great fun, though I did end up with sunburn, unfortunately my immunity to fire doesn't extend to the sun.

Spark and Sunny thought it hilarious, but Citrine scolded them for making fun of me and mixed up a batch of sunburn cream that was the equal of anything Sev had ever made and gave it to me, so I could sleep comfortably that night. It was gone in a day or two, and next time I went out with Spark and Flash, I made sure to use sunblock.

Flash wanted me to learn how to use my firecalling for things other than setting things on fire, so to that end he showed me how to conjure light and from there we progressed to illusion casting. Flash told me that illusion was just a bending of light and perception, it was a mere trick of the light. "The eye perceives light in different ways, casting a glamour is just adjusting the shape of light to make the person see what you want them to."

Well, once he'd explained it like that . . .I could cast glamours like a master, just by visualizing light in my mind and then slowly sliding it over my image or something else's image, kind of like wrapping yourself up in a coat or something in a blanket.

"It's easy," I laughed delightedly to the dragon, after I made myself look just like Severus, raven hair and falcon nose and all. I pretended to glower fiercely down at Flash, imitating that famous Snape scowl and limping slightly about the cave, threatening to give some luckless student detention or blast a criminal to smithereens.

My imitation was dead to life and had Flash laughing so hard he nearly cried, and even Sunny and Citrine smothered chuckles. I wondered if Dad would have been amused, though somehow I think he wouldn't have found it so funny, even though I wasn't really making fun of him. Hey, imitation's the sincerest form of flattery, right?

By the end of my second week there, I'd learned to conjure fire without needing to be angry, and also that my ability to do so needn't always be linked to my emotional state. In other words, when I got mad I didn't have to call fire as a result of losing my temper. I asked Flash about that, why I could now control that aspect of my talent, and he said that before, I was constantly suppressing my talent, and it was the nature of fire to want to burn, and when I refused to play with it, it grew cranky and more apt to explode, like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"But now that you know how to listen to fire and make it gentle, you need never fear it growing angry and then bursting out of your shields again," the dragon said. "And in learning to control fire, you've also learned a bit about controlling your temper as well, is that not so?"

"Yes, sir." I answered, smiling. It was true. I was a lot calmer than I'd been since my talent first emerged. I was no longer simmering with conflicting emotions of annoyance and irritability, like a pot ready to boil over. As I'd grown to understand the hidden nature of fire, so too had I grown to understand my own feelings, and control them.

I was a lot easier in my own skin, as Flash put it, and this in turn made me less prickly and apt to get in trouble. Dad would have been proud to learn that I didn't get reprimanded much at all by my teacher for being a smartass or not paying attention, the way I usually did. Instead it was Spark who was on the receiving end of Flash's lectures for being sarcastic and disrespectful. I have to say it was nice being the good student for once in my life.

Though I did ask my friend what else dragons did to punish misbehaving dragonets besides scoldings. Spark coughed and answered softly, "Well, we don't set each other on fire, if that's what you were thinking. Most times, a mother or father will make a dragonet who misbehaves stay inside the lair and not go flying for a few hours, or a day, or a week if they've been truly dreadful."

"Like grounding."

"Yes, as you humans put it. And if they've really gone and did something forbidden, like scared a person on purpose, or used magic on someone for harmful purposes, they can be given a good couple of lashes with a parent's tail. Very similar to what you wizards would call a switching."

"Ouch!" I winced. "That must_ really_ hurt."

"It does," he answered.

I raised an eyebrow. "Speaking from personal experience there?"

He grimaced. "Once, and only once, did I ever earn a thrashing from my father. Afterwards I swore by the Creator that I'd never be so stupid again, and I never was."

"What did you do?"

"My cousin and I thought it would be funny to fly alongside one of the Muggle jets and let them catch a glimpse of us for a few seconds, just to see what would happen. It was one of those big commercial airlines, TWA, or something, I think. The pilot nearly had a heart attack and the plane nearly crashed."

"Christ, I guess your dad wasn't too happy when he found out."

"To say he was furious would be putting it mildly." Spark shook his head ruefully. "We were so stupid, we thought it would be a big joke, kind of like all those UFO sightings you humans are always going on about. We didn't think we were going to cause such an incident. We were lucky no one got killed. As it was, I think we made the front page news for a week all across the country. I was lucky my father didn't strip the hide off me for that little stunt."

Somehow, Spark's little tale of mischief made me like him all the more, since it made him seem more human, so to speak, and less of a paragon. This in turn prompted me to tell him of my own mishaps and we spent one evening laughing helplessly at our own stupid mistakes and wondering what possessed us to make them in the first place.

At the end of each week I called Dad and let him know how I was doing. Our conversations usually went something like this.

"Miss me yet, Dad?"

"Miss what? The way you answer me back at least five times a day? Or the way I have to yell at you to pick up your clothes and shoes from the middle of the floor every day? Or the way I get called to school by your principal every other week for you causing some incident? Is that what I'm supposed to be missing?"

"Okay, fine. Guess I'll just stay here then, since you really don't miss me at all."

"Only kidding, scamp," he laughed then. "I really do miss you. It's very boring, though peaceful, without you here, Gavin. It's, dare I say, too quiet around here. I trust you've been behaving yourself for Fireflash?"

"Of course I have. I've been a model student, Dad."

"Good God, a miracle's occurred. Send me a picture, so I have proof. I've been waiting for a call to come and get you, that you've driven poor Flash so insane he's thinking about making a rug out of your impudent hide or something."

"Real funny, Dad. You just think I don't know how to behave."

"Oh, I think you know _how_ to behave, but whether you _will_ behave is another story."

"I've been good, just ask Flash if you don't believe me."

"I don't need to, I can tell from the tone of your voice that you're telling the truth, son. How are your studies coming along?"

I then proceed to tell him all about what I've learned that week and we end the conversation with the typical see you soon and he tells me that he's proud of me, which he knows makes me feel great, and at the same time makes me miss him more than ever. Go figure.

I mean here I am, over two hundred miles from home, with teachers who let me go flying for hours, play with fire on a daily basis, don't give me homework, don't make me do chores, and let me stay up as late as I want, and I find myself missing being at home with my dad, who makes me do all those things every day.

I think I've been brainwashed by my dad, right? Or maybe I've come to realize that there's really no substitute for a father's presence. Not even bronze dragons can take the place of that all-important figure, no matter how much fun they are to be around or how much I can learn from them. So, much as I enjoyed this time at Camp Crystal, I'll be glad when Flash declares me graduated and in full control of my powers, and I can go back to Lily Lane again. Because there really_ is_ no place like home, as Dorothy would say.

**So how did you like this one?**

**Next: Gavin comes home, just in time for the birth of Arista's child.**


	5. Oh Baby!

**Oh, Baby!**

It was nearly a month since I'd been with the dragons, and during that time I had learned more about fire, controlling my temper, illusions and masking spells than I could've been taught in seven years at Hogwarts. Fireflash was nothing if not a through and competent teacher and in those three and a half weeks I ate, slept, and breathed magical instruction. It was sort of, now that I look back on it, a kind of spellcasting boot camp, where I learned at a highly intensive and accelerated rate. But what I learned then would stay with me for the rest of my life, and indeed the lessons Flash instilled in me would someday soon save my life.

For there was a dark shadow hovering on the horizon, though I did not know it at the time. The mystery of my past and the reality of my present were about to collide all unknowing, bringing trouble and heartache into my life once more. But all of that was yet to come.

All I cared about right then was that Fireflash pronounced me a full-fledged firecaller on a sunny day on May 4th, three and a half weeks since my arrival at Camp Crystal. To celebrate, we went on a quick flying tour over the volcano, with me on Spark, and Flash and Sunny flying wingman. Citrine had to return to her duties on the Council a few days before, so I'd already made my farewells to her.

As we flew over, Flash told us how the volcano was the final resting place of the wicked Dragonmaster, otherwise known as Gerald Crouch, who'd been responsible for the killing of five bronze dragons, including Aventurine, Spark's father. Both of us spat into the crater as we flew by, and Spark said he hoped the bastard was roasting nicely in hell.

"If there's any justice the other side of heaven he is," I said, peering down at the bubbling magma core of the volcano.

Deep beneath the surface, I could feel the molten heat stirring, and I quickly looked away, not wanting to encourage St. Helen's to wake up. Then Spark was circling off to the right and I was safely beyond influencing the volcano with my powers.

In celebration of my new status as Firecaller, we had fresh tuna, grilled over a fire conjured by yours truly. I _love_ fresh tuna steaks, and these were roasted to perfection, basted with wild onions and teriyaki, nicely browned on the outside and pink and juicy on the inside. I stuffed myself like a pig and prayed I wouldn't end up with indigestion later on. (I didn't, thank God for small favors).

As a token of my graduation, Flash presented me with a dragonscale pendant, made from one of Spark's shed scales. Bronze scales have magical properties if enchanted correctly and are one of the hardest substances known to wizards. This one was enchanted with the rune for communication, so I could speak with my dragon friends whenever I wished, and also the rune for clarity of thought.

"When you need to, activate the rune for clear seeing and your mind will become sharp as a dragon talon dagger, able to see through any and all deception, whether of your own or another's making," Flash said. "Take this token of my friendship and use it wisely, Firecaller Snape. May you fly high and far and be a credit to your lineage."

I bowed low to him and slipped the pendant over my head. "Thank you, Fireflash. I'll never forget what you taught me, sir."

"I would hope not, apprentice," the dragon chuckled, grinning at me toothily. "I'd hate to think that all my lectures and wisdom were nothing more than hot air, going in one ear and out the other."

I laughed at that, then reached out and hugged his ankle, which was the only part of his body I could get my arms around. "It was an honor to be your student, Flash."

The dragon preened. "And it was an honor to be your instructor, Firecaller Gavin Snape. I think I can say this experiment was a blazing success, right, Sunny?"

"It was indeed, Flash," replied Sunstrike, giving me her own smile. "And I might just consider taking on a wizard apprentice of my own, once this Council session is over."

"Now see what you've started, Snape?" grumbled Spark. "Next thing you know I'm gonna have wizard kids all over this mountain, and I'm gonna always be compared to them."

"So what, Spark? Competition's good for you," I shot back and Spark glared at me.

"Look who's talking, Mr. Big Chief Firecaller," Spark snorted. Then he spread his wings and gave me a challenging look. "Care for one last flight over the basin? For old times sake?"

"You're on, wizwyrm! And this time I'm gonna wallop you like a naughty dragonet."

"You and what army, Snape?"

"This one." And with that I summon up a few flames shaped like wizards on brooms and send them aloft. Then I summon my Windstorm and take off after them, laughing. "Catch us if you can, slowpoke!"

Spark growled something that was probably a swear word in dragonspeech and took off after me, but I manage to maintain my two second lead by sheer luck and some wickedly dangerous flying, and I touched the ground in front the cave first for once. A sweet victory to end my time here, and all's well that ends well, as Flash is fond of quoting.

We part friends and promise to see each other sometime in the near future, when our slavedriving masters give us a vacation. Then I pack up my things and return home on Flash's back, proud as a peacock, to find my father standing on the back porch, waiting to welcome me home again.

* * * * *

I arrived home two days before Arista was due to have her baby, as fate would have it. Everyone in the family was anxiously awaiting the newest arrival, and I swear Sev practically wore a hole in the carpet pacing up and down when Drake called him to tell him that Arista was in the beginning stages of her labor early Wednesday morning, May 6th, which was her mom's birthday.

I couldn't resist teasing him a little. "Hey, Dad, why are _you_ so nervous? It's not like it's your kid getting born, y'know."

He shot me a baleful glare. "Shut up, Gavin!" Then he went back to his endless pacing and muttering. "When is Trish going to call with some news, damn it?" he asked, rolling his eyes heavenward.

I shrugged and didn't bother to reply to that question, because I had no clue. The only thing I knew about babies getting born was that the first one took hours, sometimes, and all the women cursed out their husbands and threatened to do some serious bodily harm to the man while it was happening. It made me glad as hell that I wasn't a girl, that's all I can say.

Dad was looking a little ragged around the edges, so I suggested he sit down and have a drink, not tea, but a shot of firewhisky. The way he lit into me you'd have thought I'd told him to drink Absolut laced with hemlock. I shut up after that and kept my suggestions to myself. There's no reasoning with a father whose daughter is having his first grandchild.

Soon after that, however, Severus went and sat down in his recliner and stared up at the portrait of him and Amelia that hung above the fireplace. Then he said, very softly, like he was trying to keep from screaming, "I'm _not_ overreacting, Amelia. The kid just got on my nerves right now, and the last thing I need is to be drunk." He was scowling at nothing, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "I don't give a bloody damn if that's what every other man in the damn world does to calm down, I'm not touching any whiskey, Amy! You know how I feel about the stuff. Merlin's bloody arse!" He put his head in his hands. "I'm about to become a grandfather and you want me to become like my bloody _father_, for Godsake!"

At this point I started to become seriously afraid. _Oh my God, he's snapped. It's too much, all the pressure, me and my smartass attitude, Arista's having a baby. He's totally lost it. What do I do? Help me God, I can't take this!_

Just then my spellophone ring chimed and I answered it with relief. Finally, an adult who could help me. "Hello?"

It was Drake. "Hi, kid. I just wanted to give you and Sev an update on Arista."

"How is she?"

"Doing fine. She's almost ready to push and she's relaxed, well, as much as you can be, and the baby's doing fine too. How's Dad doing, little brother?"

"Drake, I think he's gone crazy!" I babbled. "He started pacing and now he's talking to himself."

"What? Calm down, Gav. You're not making any sense. What do you mean?"

"Well, he's been all snarky to me and when I told him to have a shot of whiskey, he damn near bit my head off." Drake snickered. "What's so funny about that?"

"You forget, Sev hates whiskey, Gavin. You should have offered him tea instead. Spiked with a Calming Draft."

"Whatever. But Drake, I'm serious, he's _talking to himself_. He's sitting in the recliner, looking up at the portrait of him and Amelia and he's having a _conversation_ with her. And there's nobody here except me!"

I waited for Drake's gasp of alarm, and I wished I hadn't told him about his father-in-law's sudden descent into the loony bin. He had enough to worry about right then. But to my utter shock, Drake didn't look at all concerned. "Hang on a minute. You say he's having a conversation with Amelia?"

"Uh-huh. He's totally lost it, Drake!"

"No, he hasn't, Gav. Trust me. I guess he never told you about soulbonds, huh, kiddo?"

I scowled. "What's that got to do with anything? That's an empath thing, Arista said you've got one with her."

"So did Severus with Amelia. That's how he can speak with her now. Soulbonds last beyond death, Gavin. So she's probably with him right now, only you can't see or hear her."

I nearly fell off the couch. "_What?!_ You mean Dad's talking with his dead wife's _ghost?_" I yelped.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying," Drake replied. Then he laughed at my expression. "Come on, kid, you didn't really think he'd gone nuts, did you? Even _you_ aren't bad enough to drive him bonkers, no matter what you do or what he says. Ask him and you'll see." Then he frowned. "Gotta go, Gavin. Arista's calling me. I'll tell Trish to call you as soon as the baby's head is showing. Bye."

Then my brother-in-law's face disappeared back into the image gel on the ring as he ended our conversation. I felt as if my head was going to implode like a helium balloon too near a fire. I'd known Severus really adored his late wife, but even I'd never guessed that he'd shared one of the deepest and most intimate bonds with her known to wizard and Muggle alike. No wonder then that he'd never remarried. Or that he was hearing his wife's voice in his head or whatever.

I cast another glance over at the recliner. Dad was now gesturing and arguing impatiently, "You're forgetting, love, this is the first time I'm going through this, since you never bothered to tell me when Arista was born. So excuse me all to blazes if I'm a little nervous."

I squinted sharply, using my magical senses to try and see if there were any spectral presences in the room. I could almost sense . . .something. It felt like . . .a warm ray of sunlight. Then I rubbed my eyes and when I opened them again, I could just make out the hazy blue outline of a small woman with auburn hair in a Hunter's shirt and pants standing next to the recliner, resting her hand on Sev's shoulder.

I gaped, speechless for once.

She turned her head and winked at me then, smiling in amusement. Then she looked back at her husband and I heard her say softly, "Severus, you're scaring your poor son to death. He thinks you've gone off your rocker, dear."

Dad snorted, amused. "Not even close. After all the headaches he's given me, Amy, if I haven't been committed now, it'll never happen." He turned to look at me. "Relax, son. I'll explain everything in a minute." He shook his head. "Why aren't you with Arista, Amelia? Doesn't a girl need her mother the most at this time of her life?"

"Sometimes, yes, Sev. But Arista's doing fine right now, and you needed me more than she did, so I chose to be with you. Calm down, Sev. This isn't the first baby born in the history of the world, you know," she laughed. Her laughter sounded like bells chiming.

"It's _my_ first grandchild," Dad pointed out grumpily. "And I'm fine now, so you can go back to your daughter. She needs you more than I ever did at this time, Amy." He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which he only did when he was extremely nervous or upset. "How long does it take to have a baby anyhow? With all those Healers, can't they speed it up?"

"No, dearheart. Having a baby is one of those things that doesn't welcome a Healer's interference. It's best to allow nature to just take its course, unless there're complications."

"Complications? Like what?" Dad looked like he was about to bolt up from the chair.

"Easy, Sev. There's no need for you to go through the roof," Amelia soothed. "Arista's fine, this is a textbook delivery, from what I can sense. So relax, Grandpa, before you give yourself an early coronary."

"I _am_ relaxed," he muttered, scowling. "Honest I am. I just hate all this blasted waiting. Why couldn't women have babies the way cats have kittens?"

"I don't know, Sev. Maybe next time I see God, I can ask Him for you." Then she burst out laughing. "I'm sure every woman on the planet has asked that same question."

"Don't make fun of me, Amelia. Women! There's no understanding you sometimes."

"I know. That's why you love us so much," she smiled at him, and in that smile was such love and tenderness that I nearly cried. God, what I wouldn't have given for my mother to smile at me like that. Then she leaned over and kissed him.

I looked away. I'm no Peeping Tom, and this was an intensely private moment. My face felt like it was scorching and I firmly kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling.

When I looked back a moment later, they'd stopped kissing, thank the Lord. But Dad had a look on his face of such love and contentment that you'd of thought he'd died and gone to heaven. Well, maybe he had, in a way. "I love you, Amy."

"I love you too, Sev. And now, I think I'd better go and see what's going on with Arista. I don't want to miss the birth of my first grandchild. See you later!" She put her spectral arms about him and hugged him, kissing him once more, then she vanished in a cloud of golden sparkles.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the glittering afterimage from my retinas. Hell, I groaned to myself, I didn't want to be able to see dead people. I had enough crazy talents just being a firecaller and an Animal Speaker, I didn't need to become John Edwards too. It was then that I realized my hand was gripping the dragonscale pendant Fireflash had given me. The rune for clarity glowed faintly as I stared at it, then it faded. _With it you can see through any kind of illusion or deception_, Flash's words swirled in my head. Was a ghost considered an illusion? Guess so, or else the amulet wouldn't have let me see Amelia.

I heaved a vast sigh of relief. Thank God, I wasn't going to start seeing ghosts all over like Whoopi Goldberg in that old romance _Ghost_ with Patrick Swayze. "Dad?" I began. "Was that really Amelia you were talking to?"

Severus turned to face me, opening his mouth to reply, when his spellophone chimed. He immediately opened it to reveal Trish's smiling face. "Hey, Dad! You need to come over to the hospital double quick. You're a grandpa! And Gavin's an uncle, may God help the poor kid."

"I'm on my way, Trish." He shut the spellophone and turned to me. "Come on, scamp, let's go and meet the newest Snape."

"Uh, the baby's a Lockwood, Dad," I felt compelled to remind him.

"Right, but also a Snape, Gavin." He held out a hand for me to grasp.

"What is it, a boy or a girl?"

"Uh . . .do you know, I forgot to ask," he said, looking sheepish.

"You're losing it, Dad," I said, laughing.

"Shut up, Gavin!" he mock-growled, grabbing me in a hug that nearly squeezed the breath out of me. Then we Apparated in a flash of blue light.

* * * * * *

Trish, my other sister, and her husband Flick were waiting for us when we appeared in the waiting room of the maternity ward. Trish is short, blond, and curvy, with sparkling brown eyes. She's the most easy-going of us all and we love her for it. She teaches preschool at another integrated wizard-Muggle school in Brick called Little Wonders. Her students adore her, she's a natural with them.

Flick, whose real name is Robert, works under my dad as a Hunter, and he's always ready with a joke or a smile. He's medium height, with spiked brown hair and dark eyes that are always dancing, unless he's tracking down a suspect. He's a martial arts master and one of the best combat masters ever trained by Colin Flynn.

Right then both of them wore broad grins on their faces and Trish bounced over to hug Dad and me. "Come on, you've got to see the baby!"

"Uh, Trish? What is it, a boy or a girl?" I asked.

"You'll see. Arista wanted you to be surprised."

We followed her and Flick through a small blue door and into a room that was painted with sunflowers and hearts. There in a bed against the wall was Arista, looking a bit worn, but she was smiling in sheer delight down at the little bundle in her arms. Drake was seated beside her, beaming proudly, one hand resting on his wife's arm.

Arista looked up as we entered, her dark eyes glowing. "Dad, come and meet your grandson, Severus Alexander Lockwood." She held the tiny baby out to Dad, who looked like he'd just received the Order of Merlin First Class, awed and delighted at the same time.

"You named him after me?" he asked, taking the baby from his mother and cuddling him expertly. I was surprised, until I remembered he'd held both of Colin's kids before when they were this little. "Hello there, young man," he crooned, and the baby whimpered or something.

"Yeah, Arista and I decided it sounded better to name him Severus Alexander instead of Alexander Severus," Drake told him. "Alexander's my dad's middle name, and I like it better than Robin. But I think we're gonna end up calling him little Sev."

Dad didn't say a word, he was too busy playing with his new grandson, who was gripping one of his long fingers in his tiny fist. I peered over Dad's arm. Little Sev was a little red-faced, but he had the biggest pair of dark blue eyes I'd ever seen, and he was looking at the finger he was holding like it was the biggest mystery on earth.

"Hey, kid. What're you looking at, huh?" I asked softly, and reached out to stroke the downy fuzz on the top of his head, which was a kind of dark reddish color. "I'm your Uncle Gavin." God, that sounded so weird!

"Careful, Gavin," Dad warned. "Don't touch the top of his head, babies are very sensitive there."

I immediately withdrew my hand. "Sorry. I didn't know." I extended a finger at the baby's other hand. "Can I touch his hand then?"

Baby Sev didn't know how to use his left hand too well, so I settled for touching the tiny palm. His skin was softer than griffindown. I grinned down at him, unable to help myself. "Wow!"

"Yes," Dad chuckled. "He's perfect, isn't he? Want to hold him, Gavin?"

"Uh . . .now?" I gulped, suddenly terrified. "But he's so small."

"Not really!" Arista put in from the bed, and Trish laughed. "He's a good seven pounds and five ounces, Gav."

"He is?" I repeated, thinking that he sure didn't look it.

"Yeah, trust me," said his mother.

"Sit down and I'll put him in your arms," Dad instructed, jerking his chin at the foot of the bed.

I sat, feeling my stomach start to do flips, I was so nervous. "Uh, Dad, I don't know if this is such a good idea . . ." I began.

Dad smirked. "Come on, Uncle Gavin, say hello to your nephew. He won't bite. Hold out your arms like you were cradling an expensive potion bottle." He placed the baby in my arms, making sure one of my hands was underneath his bottom and his head was resting securely on my upper arm. "Good. Now hold him against you, that's right."

I snuggled the tiny thing to me, marveling at how he felt so light and yet so squirmy, for his little legs and arms were flailing a bit. "Hi, little Sev," I said, and then the baby looked at me for the first time and his tiny mouth twitched into what I could swear was a smile. Aw, Jeez! And suddenly I wasn't nervous at all. Just really happy and amazed at the little miracle staring up at me.

Right then and there I vowed to be the best uncle ever.

"Well, Gav? What do you think of him?" Arista asked.

"Arista, he's . . .amazing!"

"You can say that again," his father chuckled.

"He certainly is," Dad agreed, smiling. "Congratulations, you two." He then went over to hug both new parents. "You should be very proud of yourself, Arista. I know your mom would be, if she were here."

"She was, for awhile," my sister whispered in my dad's ear. Then she straightened and said, "I just hope my son doesn't drive me as crazy as we did you, Dad."

"He'll have a ways to go before he equals your brother," said Dad with a wicked smirk.

"Hey! I'm not the only troublemaker in this family!" I said indignantly. "The twins get into more trouble than I do. And Marietta's no angel either."

"The four of you are the new Horsemen of the Apocalypse," Dad remarked. "Replacing the original Horsemen."

"Who were they?" asked Trish.

"My mom, Aunt Teri, Aunt Sandy, and me, I think," replied Arista with a laugh. "Right, Dad?"

"Correct. Your mom and aunts used to drive Leo just as crazy as you ever did me, Arista Eileen. Or this scamp does," he added with a sigh.

"You like me this way," I pointed out. "You wouldn't know what to do with a kid who behaved all the time."

"No?" He arched an eyebrow at me.

"No. You said so yourself, all kids get in trouble and there's no such thing as a perfect child."

"There is now," Drake put in, indicating his son.

"You say that now, buddy," Flick chuckled. "Just wait till he wakes you up at two in the morning, Drake. We'll see how perfect you think he is then, right, Sev?"

Dad merely smiled knowingly. "All fathers think their children are perfect."

"Really? Then you think _I'm_ perfect, right, Dad?" I queried.

"Of course I do," he answered and I smirked in triumph. "A perfect scamp, that is."

The others burst out laughing.

I frowned. "Real funny, Dad." But I wasn't really annoyed with him. Much. "Just like you were when you were a kid," I added slyly.

"Good one, Gav!" Trish said, laughing.

Dad pretended to glare at me, but I knew he wasn't mad either. A second later he ruffled my hair, then he took little Sev from me and gave him back to Arista. Just in time too, for the baby started howling.

"Somebody's hungry," Arista crooned, and summoned a bottle of formula with a snap of her fingers. While her son ate, she turned to Severus and asked, "So, Dad, how does it feel to be a grandfather?"

"It feels wonderful."

"He didn't think so a few hours ago, Arista," I couldn't resist adding. "He was nearly going through the wall waiting for the kid to get born."

Dad shot me an irritated look. "So? It's not everyday your first grandchild comes into the world. Now quit smirking, Gavin!"

"Yes, sir." I tried to control my expression into something that was not grinning like an obscene monkey.

"Uh, Dad, I hope you realize you're going to have to go through this again in another seven months," Trish began, giving him a tentative smile.

"What?"

"Flick and I are expecting," she announced proudly, and was promptly congratulated by Arista, Drake, and me.

"That's great, Trish," Dad said, then I heard him mutter, "Somebody shoot me now, please!"

I couldn't help myself. I burst out laughing.

"Incorrigible brat!" Dad growled.

I just laughed harder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father's mouth twitch into a reluctant grin.

**So what did you think of Sev's reaction? And how did you like Amelia being there as well? **

**Next: Gavin gets a brilliant idea that they ought to go on vacation to Salem, but will Snape agree? Find out next chapter!**


	6. My Brilliant Idea

**My Brilliant Idea**

_One week later:_

"Hey, Gav! Want to play some hockey?"

The voice belonged to my cousin Drew Marciano, one of a pair of twelve-year-old twins. I whispered reassurances to the baby bunny I'd been feeding a piece of lettuce to, Drew's yell had startled the poor thing so bad it had nearly took off. But my whispered, "Hey, it's all right, nothing will hurt you," calmed the little thing enough so it finished the lettuce I'd held out.

It twitched its tiny nose at me. "More?"

I grinned. "No, no more today. You'd better get on back to your burrow, your mom will be looking for you."

"Tomorrow?" it queried, sniffing my fingers hopefully.

"Okay. Tomorrow, I'll have another piece for you," I agreed, trying not to laugh. "But you only come in here if I'm around, little guy. Otherwise Scout'll get you."

The rabbit shuddered at the mention of my dog, who was a hound. "Big dog. Scary. I'll remember. Goodbye, Gavin sir!" It turned to run back through the grass, then it turned about and lisped a thank you before it vanished into the thick green grass.

I rose from the ground, brushing off my jeans as I did so. I'd discovered the baby bunny yesterday as I was weeding the garden (an endless chore, since the blasted weeds always came back!). At first it had been scared out of its skin, but once I'd spoken a few words to it in rabbit-speak, it calmed down and let me touch it and feed it a tiny piece of lettuce. Dad would've been yelling at that, saying I'd just encouraged a rodent to come into our garden for a free handout, but the bunny was too cute to resist. Besides, I could always tell the rabbit to leave if it got too pushy and started nibbling on our produce.

And Scout was enough of a deterrent when it came to scaring away rabbits, squirrels, and garden gnomes from our backyard. I figured the poor thing had wandered in here by mistake that afternoon, because it had been shivering when I'd found it and moaning "Not the Director's garden!" to itself. I'd had to bite my lip to keep from laughing, since it looked like the rabbit mommies had all scared their bunny kids into obedience by threatening them with "the Director's garden." As in "Never ever go into the Director's garden, or else Scout will get you, or the Director himself!" Kind of like in _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_, when Peter's mother warns him never to go in Mr. MacGregor's garden or else he'll end up in a pie.

Not that Dad would've done anything like that, but a good dose of fear probably saved a lot of little bunnies' lives. Of course, I'd made the little scamp promise to never tell that I was giving him lettuce on the sly, and he'd promised upon the Great Hare (the rabbit version of God, probably) and so I told him he could come back every morning I permitted and get another piece. To cover up my actions, I now weeded the garden every afternoon, a thing that was making Dad wonder at my sudden industriousness, since I'd always bitched over doing that chore before. But he'd never asked me about my change of attitude yet and I hoped he never would.

I quickly walked around the side of the house to the driveway, where my two cousins, Drew and Nick, were waiting for me. They weren't identical twins, but they resembled each other enough so you knew they were brothers. Drew had dark hair and bright blue eyes, while Nick was sandy blond and had brown eyes. Today they were wearing jeans and faded T-shirts that had an Alpha Windstorm logo on them, which was a stylized A with wind swirling about it. The Alphas were a popular US Quidditch team.

"What's up?" asked Nick, eying my somewhat dirt smeared jeans.

"Uncle Sev's got you working like a field hand again, huh?" Drew commented.

"Nah. I was just weeding the vegetable garden," I said offhandedly. The field hand thing was an old joke between us, since neither of our families used house elves to do chores. That was mainly the responsibility of us apprentices. "You taking Potions and Defense with him yet?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, and holy God, what's with all the homework, Gav? I mean, it's not like we're in college or something."

I shrugged. "Don't ask me, I'm not the professor here, Nick. You got a problem, complain to Dad, not me."

"Oh, right," Drew snorted. "Like that'll ever work. Hey Uncle Sev, can you give us less homework next time? And he'll just give us one of _those_ looks and say the more homework, the better the student or something like that. And then give us twice the work cause we were stupid enough to complain about it."

"And it only took him, like three times before he learned that, Gavin," teased Nick.

"Shut up, Nick!" Drew ordered, glaring at his twin. "Don't make me tell Gav how long it took _you_ to learn to cast a simple Shield charm, Mr. Brilliant."

Now it was Nick's turn to scowl at his brother. "Whatever. How did it go with the dragons, Gav?" he asked, abruptly switching the subject. "Was it like the most awesome thing ever?"

"Yeah, it was," I said honestly, not missing the undisguised envy in my cousin's tone. Not that I blamed him. To study with a bronze dragon was something most American wizards would give their left arms for. I told them about Spark and Flash and how Flash had taught me a new way to focus my magic. The twins listened, spellbound, to my account.

"God, but you are _so_ lucky!" said Nick. "Makes me almost wish I was a firecaller, if that's how you can get to study with dragons."

I shook my head slowly. "You wouldn't say that, Nick, if you know what it was really like having a talent like mine. It isn't so cool when you're losing your temper every other minute over stupid things and swearing at your dad because you're too mad to think straight."

Drew's mouth fell open. "You did _what_?"

"You _swore_ at Uncle Sev?" Nick repeated, his eyes bugging out. "And you're still breathing? Must not have been too bad then."

I chuckled. "Wrong." I then proceeded to tell them exactly what I'd said.

"Merlin's freakin' staff, Gav!" exclaimed Nick. "You actually said that to his _face_?"

"Yeah, it was stupid, and believe me I paid for it," I said ruefully.

"What'd he do to you?" Drew asked. "Did he like, wallop your ass, or what? 'Cause our dad would've, if either of us ever said that to him."

"That and he grounded me, made me write lines, and made me eat soap too," I reported.

Both twins winced in sympathy. "Ouch. Did you get it with a ruler?" Nick wanted to know.

I gaped at him. "Hell, no! Why? You mean your dad . . . ?"

"Only for doing something _really_ bad, like hexing Marietta or using the F-word to his face," Nick explained. "And then it's seven with the ruler and that's all."

I shook my head, for I never pictured my Uncle Johnny as the type to discipline that way. "Dad didn't use anything except his hand, and that was bad enough," I said, thanking God I didn't live with my uncle. I'd had enough of belts and switches to last me a lifetime. "When did you ever hex Marietta, Nick?"

"Three years ago. She wanted to play hockey with us, and I told her no, so she said she was telling on me, the way she always does, the brat, and I got mad and cast a Croaking Hex on her. That's the one that makes you croak like a frog, you know, and it only lasts like ten minutes, but she ran into the house and next thing I knew here comes my dad, mad as blazes, wanting to know what I thought I was doing, hexing a little kid like that? Then he made me remove the spell, tell her I was sorry and all that, and then he walloped my ass. One day I'm breaking that damn ruler."

Drew snickered. "He always says that after Dad punishes him."

"So do you," his twin pointed out.

"True. And we will, someday, when we're too old to spank." Drew predicted. "Okay, let's play hockey, because this is gonna be the last chance we've got since we're going on vacation next week with Mom to Massachusetts." He quickly cast an Excelsior shield charm over himself and his twin.

We played spelled hockey, which was a game invented by Mark, another of our cousins, who was afraid of flying but loved hockey. Mark was all grown-up now, but he sometimes still came by and played games with us just for fun. It was called that because the puck was spelled to blink in and out, making it ten times as hard to hit than normal.

Nick agreed to be goalie, so me and Drew faced off for the first game. We played until six goals then switched. The Excelsior charms were necessary because we didn't want to get hurt with the puck and that way we could check each other good and hard.

After I scored three goals and Drew two, we settled down to play in earnest. I was quicker than Drew on my skates, though not as fast as Mark used to be (and still is, if I'm being honest), and I kept an eagle eye out for the puck.

Blink!

Then it reappeared almost all the way down the driveway, making me and Drew race for it. I got there before he did and shot it back up towards the goal. It slid right at Nick, but he was ready and snagged it in his goalie mitt. Damn!

Once he'd picked it up, he tossed it back into the center of the driveway and we faced off again.

But eventually I managed to score the final goal and I won, 6-4.

Drew cuffed me gently about the head afterwards. "Good game, kid. I need to practice more."

"My thoughts exactly," smirked Nick, and got a punch in the arm for that comment.

I was used to their constant bickering and just ignored it. They were like two mischievous puppies, always ready for a scuffle. "Want to get a soda?" I asked. "I'm dying of thirst."

"Yeah," agreed Nick, and promptly summoned three cans of Coke from my refrigerator.

We leaned on our sticks against the garage, sipping our drinks and getting our breath back, though I wasn't all that winded. "So, what are you going to do in Massachusetts?"

Nick shrugged, twirling his stick idly. "Dunno. Probably see some museums and stuff, Mom always does that kind of thing. We're gonna go to Martha's Vineyard, I think."

"Dad's not going, though. He's got work," said Drew. "Some big case, involving some bust of a big dealer in midnight mushroom powder and stuff like that." My Uncle Johnny worked for the Hunter Narcotic Division as an undercover spook, as they say in the business, he was one of the best in his field, according to my father.

"Midnight mushroom powder, that's nasty stuff," I said, recalling how a friend of mine had nearly died from it six months ago.

"One of the worst drugs there is," Nick said importantly, as if he knew all there was to know about it. "Dad says it can really do a number on your magic, if you inhale enough of it." Midnight mushroom inhibited a wizard's magic, if he or she was foolish enough to eat or smoke it. Even breathing the fumes in was dangerous and prolonged use of it could stunt your magical powers for good and all. It was a hallucinogen though, and addicting as hell, which was why users of it kept doing it.

"Arista says so too," I added, recalling a conversation I'd had with her not long after the Shifter case had been wrapped up. "She's treated more than a couple of cases in the clinic, and they're among the worst addictions."

"But she can heal them, right?" asked Drew. He looked at Arista as some sort of Healing goddess, because she was so amazingly powerful.

"Sometimes. Other times, they've damaged the core of their magic so badly she can't repair it all, and they can only cast small spells and sense magical presences, but the rest of it is lost."

"Man, that would suck!" Nick muttered.

I nodded. "Well, I hope your dad nails those crummy dealers good. They're scum of the earth, like Ferrous." I spat. I scratched a line in the asphalt with my stick, thinking. "Hey, I think Martha's Vineyard is pretty close to Salem, you know, where they had all the witch hunts and stuff. Maybe you could drop by there and take a look at it."

The twins looked thoughtful. "Mom says no self-respecting magician or wizard would stay in Salem. There's too many ghosts or whatever there," Nick mused. "Still, I've always wanted to see it. Just to look, know what I mean?"

Drew and I nodded. "I heard that twenty-four people, including old women and children and some eighty-year old man were tried and killed for being witches before the governor of Massachusetts finally put a stop to it," I told them, recalling my history class last semester. We'd done a whole unit on Salem and the impact the trials had on society and what it showed about how rumor and superstition could influence even educated people.

"People were dumb back then," Drew said derisively. "They believed the devil could possess people at the drop of a hat and they thought magic was evil and anybody that acted odd was a witch and devil worshipper."

"Can you blame them? That's what they were taught, what their leaders, who were mostly preachers and stuff, believed. They were ignorant, not stupid." I said.

"What's the difference?" Nick asked.

"Stupid means you can't comprehend another point of view, no matter how many times somebody tells you something," I explained. "But ignorance isn't stupidity, it's a lack of knowledge. An ignorant person only knows a little bit about something, but he thinks he knows everything, even though that's not so. An ignorant person can be taught better, made to see another person's viewpoint. A stupid person's hopeless. At least that's how my teacher explained it."

"But look how many people died because of that." Drew argued. "I mean, over half of those people had no magic at all, they were just Muggles, and they died for something they didn't even do."

"I know. That's why we ought to remember it, so we don't let that kind of thing happen again."

"D'you think it _could_ happen again?" Nick cried.

"It might, if enough people in power ever got the idea that a certain group of people were dangerous. Ferrous used to believe the same kind of thing, and he grew up in the twentieth century, not the 1600's."

"Yeah but Ferrous, he was like, screwed up in the head." Drew snorted.

"Sure he was, but there're more like him out there. Don't think he was the only one."

"They all need to be put away," Nick stated angrily.

"That'd be nice."_ But it'll never happen_, I added silently to myself. Because people like Ferrous were like rats, they faded away when danger threatened, only to come out again when darkness fell. "Want to play another game?"

"Yeah. You're goalie this time though, Gavin," Drew declared.

"Okay," I said and handed my stick over to Nick.

Three games later we were ready to call it quits, since all of us were starving.

"C'mon, let's go and hit Uncle Sev up for some dinner or something," Nick suggested, knowing full well Dad would never refuse to feed us.

So we all trooped inside after shedding our skates and sticks in the garage and putting away the net. Dad was, as I'd figured, already preparing supper. He looked up as we entered. "Hello, boys. I assume you're starving, you usually are after playing hockey."

"What are you cooking, Uncle Sev?" Nick asked, giving his uncle one of those puppy-dog stares that never failed to get results.

"Tonight I'm making cheesesteaks, rosemary potatoes, and salad," answered Dad, rinsing the salad off in a colander in the sink.

"Oh, man! Can we stay for dinner?" Drew asked, also throwing him a pleading irresistible look.

"Of course. Just tell your mother first. Then I want all of you to go and wash up, you're filthy." He eyed me resignedly. "Gavin, you can change your clothes too while you're at it, then come back here and set the table."

"Yes, sir," I responded, echoed a moment later by the twins.

Twenty minutes later we were all seated at the kitchen table, eating cheesesteaks on crispy rolls dripping with ketchup, fries, and salad. I picked at my salad, since I really don't care for lettuce, but Dad gave me one of his looks, and I started to eat it. Dad insists I eat some kind of green vegetable at least three times a week, otherwise he'll go back to making me a Nutrient Potion to drink so I get enough vitamins. That potion is so disgusting, I'd sooner eat lettuce, and so I do. With Dad's special dressing, it's not bad at all.

It was while I was eating and the twins were telling Severus about their upcoming vacation in Massachusetts that I got a brilliant idea. "Um, Dad? Why don't we take a vacation too?" I said all at once, nearly choking myself on a piece of bread.

"Gavin, don't talk with your mouth full," my father scolded, coming over to give me a sharp tap on the back. "Drink some water." I did, coughing. He rubbed my back until I'd stopped. "All right now?"

"Yeah," I managed at last, wiping my face with a napkin. Guess there really _is_ a reason why parents tell you that, I thought ruefully.

Dad returned to his seat across from me. "Now, repeat what you just said, I didn't catch a word of it."

"I said, why don't we go on vacation too, Dad? I mean, you hardly, make that _never_ take time off from your job, so I thought maybe we could, um, go to Massachusetts with Nick, Drew, and Aunt Teri. I think we could both use a vacation." Then I used the same exact stare my cousins had on him.

"Oh, you do, huh?" was all he said for a moment. He sipped at his glass of iced tea, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

I crossed my fingers hopefully. There was a lot of truth in what I said. Dad was a workaholic, he hardly ever rested, even on the weekends he took some cases home with him. I wondered if he even knew the meaning of the words "time off". Maybe things would've been different if Amelia had been alive, but right now . . .

"Very well, I think a small vacation will do us both good," he agreed, to my everlasting shock. "How long were you boys planning on staying in Massachusetts?"

"Uh, I think a week or so," Drew answered, smiling. I knew he was glad I was coming, since I could act as a buffer between him and his twin. They were typical brothers, always arguing over everything, and sometimes they got on each other's nerves something fierce.

"Good. That will give us plenty of time to see some historical monuments and things," Dad declared. We all groaned at that.

Then, pleased with how well my first question had worked, I boldly asked, "Can we go and visit Salem, Dad? Please?"

"Salem? The site of all those witch burnings?" he repeated, not looking too thrilled.

"They hung them, Dad, not burned them." I corrected swiftly. "I studied a bit about it in school and I'd really like to go there and see it for myself. It'll be really educational," I added, playing my trump card. Educational was music to my professor father's ears.

Slowly he nodded. "Yes, it very well may be. I've been meaning to go up there anyway, there's been some odd activity up there lately."

All three of us perked up at that statement. "Like what?" Drew asked.

"Disturbing rumors mostly, about someone reviving the witch hunts," Dad replied tightly.

"Reviving the witch hunts?" I repeated softly. "But that's-that's insane! Nobody believes in that kind of thing anymore."

"So I thought too, but there have been reports of a fringe group sniffing around that area by some of my operatives. Some families have been the target of that hatred, they've gotten signs and nasty messages scrawled over their houses and cars, poppets hung on their mailboxes and in their yards. Nothing really threatening yet . . .but the implication is there."

"What the heck's a poppet?" wondered Nick.

"It's a stuffed ragdoll, or something that looks like a doll." This was something I knew a bit about, thanks to Mr. Andrews's unit. "Witches were supposed to use them to ill-wish somebody or curse them. Like a voodoo doll."

"It could also be taken as a warning," Dad said. "A 'back off or you'll be next' sort of thing. Though the original meaning of a poppet was nothing more than a doll for a little child to play with. The witch hunters though perverted that innocent meaning into something much more sinister." His lip twisted into a sneer. "Typical. What people don't understand, they fear. And in their fear they hate and then they destroy."

"Those families, are they true wizarding ones, Uncle Sev?" queried Drew.

"Some of them are, yes. But some aren't. One of the targets is nothing more than an old woman with ten cats who lives alone since her husband died."

"The crazy cat lady," Nick giggled. Severus glared at him and he stopped.

"There, you see. It's labels like that which can do great harm in the wrong hands," Dad lectured. "I'm sure that woman is not crazy, simply because she chooses to live alone with only her cats for company, but stereotypes like that persist."

"People believe what they want to believe," I quoted softly.

"Yes, and that's exactly the problem," my father sighed. "Back in the 1690's it was very easy to believe that women who were, shall we say, hermits with a sassy attitude or who didn't quite conform to the everyday standards, or didn't look like everyone else, were somehow tainted and evil. And it didn't help that some of those girls who originally did the accusations were spoiled bored brats looking for something better to do than their embroidery and cooking. If their fathers had permitted them to read or have some kind of an education, they might not have done what they did."

"My teacher says that he thinks they meant it as a kind of prank at first, but then it got really out of hand," I volunteered.

"I've no doubt that's exactly what happened. Rumors can be deadly in the wrong hands." Dad said dryly.

"I don't know much about the Salem witch trials," Nick admitted. "I used to fall asleep in my history class."

Drew and I sniggered at that. But Dad merely rolled his eyes, he'd expected no less. "Good, then you can use this trip as an opportunity to brush up on your colonial history, Nicholas. I would hope you find it more interesting this time around."

"Oh I will, sir." Nick said quickly. "Just don't make me write an essay on it, please!"

Dad smirked. "I wasn't going to, but now that you mention it-"

"NO!" all three of us shouted, horrified. "Please!"

"Dad, it's supposed to be a _vacation_," I reminded him. "No homework, remember?"

"I'll learn all about it, Uncle Sev, just don't make me write it down," Nick pleaded, for he _really_ hated essays. "I swear to God."

Dad bit his lip and glanced away.

It was then I realized he was trying very hard not to start cracking up, the miserable sneak!

But after a few tense moments, he turned back and said silkily, "Very well, no essays. But I expect you to all learn something useful on this vacation, so history doesn't repeat itself."

"We will, sir," promised Drew.

"Thank you God," Nick murmured into his sandwich.

I threw my parent a rather reproving glare, letting him know I hadn't been fooled for a minute about his threat. Well, mostly. "Do these witch hunting people have a name or something, Dad?"

He nodded. "Yes. They've given themselves the name The Brotherhood of the Shining Path. The name rings a bell with me, but I don't recall yet why. I'll have to do some research on them, I think they've been connected to this sort of thing before." Then his eyes narrowed and he said sternly, "This does not mean you are going to be involved in my investigation, Gavin Snape. I plan to use this vacation to do some information gathering, nothing more. And you, young man, are to keep your nose out of it."

"But Dad, it's not that dangerous . . ."

"Gavin!" he snapped. "It's Hunter business, and you know the rules."

I sighed. I surely did. It meant that minors were strictly forbidden to get involved, this included Director's sons, even ones who were firecallers. Perhaps especially those. I knew it was for my own protection, but still, I hated it when Dad took that attitude with me, like I was a little baby that couldn't defend myself. I was a full-fledged firecaller now, since I'd graduated from Fireflash's schooling. Still, I knew better than to argue with my father when his mind was made up.

One of Severus Snape's rules was that his work stayed separate from his private life, it was a means of protecting his family. Usually I didn't mind all that much, but there were times, like now, that I wished he'd trust me with a little information. But then I guess old habits are hard to break, and he wasn't used to relying on anyone except himself. Perhaps someday he'd see me as an assistant and not just his child. Right. Like when I was seventeen maybe.

I resumed eating, figuring it was wiser to do that than continue discussing this current case with him. I was less apt to get in trouble that way. At least I had managed to wriggle a vacation out of this, I silently congratulated myself on my brilliant idea.

Once we'd finished eating and cleaned up, I asked, "What's for dessert?"

"Ice cream sundaes, if you want." Dad waved a hand at the freezer.

If we want? Was he kidding? The twins made a beeline for the freezer, where there were three different kinds of ice cream, plus all the toppings. I generously allowed my guests first choice of ice cream and toppings. Then I fixed Dad his usual, chocolate with caramel sauce and whipped cream with walnuts on top, levitated it over to him, and started to make myself one.

I slyly snuck a lick of chocolate ice cream off the spoon before scooping some into a cone.

"Gavin! Do _not_ lick the spoon and then put it back in the ice cream, young man!"

Oops. Caught again! "I, uh, I wasn't . . ."

"Don't bother lying," growled Dad, not even bothering to look up. "Now quit it, it's disgusting. I don't want your germs on my ice cream."

"Why? I'm not contagious," I hissed. I swear, that man has eyes in the back of his head! Not to mention ears like a rabbit.

"What was that? Did I hear you asking to go to bed without dessert, Mr. Snape?"

"No, sir," I say quickly, and wash off the spoon. I ought to know better than to try something like that with him right there, but sometimes I just can't help myself. One of the trials of living with a smart-aleck former street brat.

**Hope you all liked this one! I wrote it before I became sick. Next chapter will have Gavin, the twins, Sev, and Teri on vacation in Massachusetts! It'll be a blast . . .and a headache, LOL!**


	7. Vacation Ups and Downs

**Vacation Ups and Downs**

Dad talked with Aunt Teri and settled everything with her, she actually was glad having another adult along with her on this trip I think. She got along really well with my dad, they teased and kidded each other just like brother and sister. Teri worked as a librarian in Brick, but not at a wizard library, since there weren't too many public libraries around with spellbooks in them. We wizards tend to guard our magical texts like a dog guards a favorite bone, with our lives. But Teri loves books and she's an excellent librarian, which is kind of funny, considering one of her sons, Nick, hates writing and isn't too keen on reading either. Drew's another story, he's a bookworm like my dad, Arista, Trish, and me too.

Baby Sev was doing great, he was such a good baby. I think Arista really lucked out, because he wasn't very fussy and slept for three hours at a time, no problem. Trish said it was typical of Arista to get the well-behaved child when she'd been anything but as a teenager. "I'll probably end up with a kid that cries all day and night and has colic," she said mournfully to Dad one day.

Dad told her not to worry, if that happened, he knew of several potions that would help. And if the baby was anything like its mother, it'd be sweet and joyful, so Trish shouldn't get herself in such a state. Dad had already started spoiling his new grandson, he'd bought the baby a little one-piece outfit that said _I'm a Potions Prodigy_ and a stuffed dragon that roared softly and a book of Aesop's Fables. I told him if he didn't stop buying the kid everything in sight, there'd be nothing left for him to get the baby for Christmas. But he just eyed me and said I shouldn't be jealous, it was immature. Me, jealous? I was not! What did I have to be jealous of a little baby for? The kid couldn't even sit up yet, for crying out loud!

And yet . . .there was a tiny dark corner of my heart that did envy the baby a little, for having the love and kindness I never knew, for growing up knowing he was loved and safe, and that he belonged somewhere. Unlike me, who'd been the freak and was wanted nowhere until a year or so ago. I quickly stuffed that traitorous thought down deep in my mind and buried it. It was wrong to resent a baby for being born into a loving family, for having the chance I never did. I had my chance now, didn't I? Better late than never.

Besides, it wasn't as if I was neglected. Dad bought me pretty much whatever I needed or wanted, all I had to do was ask. I didn't, most times, because I didn't want him to think I was a spoiled brat, and I was used to doing without. But I did get an allowance for doing chores and Dad never questioned what I spent my money on, so long as it wasn't anything illegal.

I decided to write to Monkey, one of my best friends, who still ran with the Ravens. She'd saved my hide six months ago, freeing me and Ginny Potter from the Shifter in a clever rescue attempt. Her real name was Jane Eyre Arnold, but I still called her Monkey, since that's what I'd known her by the longest. She was twelve and had been on the streets since she was a little younger than me, and was sassy, smart, and tough.

I pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. Monkey, unlike the rest of the Ravens, knew the truth about what I was and the wizarding world in general. But Severus had made her swear a magically binding oath to never reveal anything about us unless it was in peril of her life. I had told her to check the moon and star mailbox near the Ravens' hideout occasionally in case I sent her a letter. I told her about Arista's new baby and my stay with Fireflash. I even told her a bit about my fight with my dad, knowing she'd understand, she'd gotten into plenty of arguments with her mom, who didn't really want her hanging around. I also told her how we were going to visit Salem and all that on vacation and said I hoped she was doing okay. I added that if she ever needed anything, she could always write to me and I'd help her out, no matter what. I owed her my life and I'd do anything for her.

I posted the letter with Nightfall, hoping I'd get a reply back before I left. But three days went by and she didn't write back. Maybe she didn't have any paper or whatever. Meanwhile, I was busy packing for the trip, and Dad was busy finishing up some things for his job and making sure Arista would look after Scout for us, since we decided not to take him on this trip. He'd be bored in Salem, and we were only going to be gone a week to nine days at the most.

Before I knew it, we were on our way to Massachusetts via dragonback. Dad had contacted Fireflash with his dragonscale pendant and asked if he wouldn't mind flying us there. Otherwise we'd have taken a train to Martha's Vineyard. Flash had agreed, he said he'd be more than happy to perform such a service for the Director and his family.

The twins' eyes nearly popped out of their heads when they found out, they'd never ridden dragonback before. They knew Fireflash, of course, but it had been a long time since they'd seen him, not since they were about four. So they were practically doing handsprings at this wonderful opportunity to ride a dragon.

"You're the awesomest uncle ever, Uncle Sev!" they cried when Dad announced how we were getting to Massachusetts.

Dad chuckled. "Awesomest? Is that a word?"

"Yeah it is," Nick assured him, grinning from ear to ear. "And you're it! Merlin's beard, I can't believe I'm actually gonna fly on a _dragon_!"

"Me either," said his twin, looking a little dazed. "I mean, I've always imagined it, but I never actually thought it'd happen." He grinned up at Severus, his blue eyes glowing. "Thanks so much, Uncle Sev."

"You're welcome, boys," Dad said, and ruffled their hair the same as he does mine. He liked giving surprises to his nieces and nephews, and liked it even more when they appreciated them. Knowing what I do about his childhood, I understand why better now.

Flash has conjured extra seats on his dragonsaddle so we can all fit comfortably. I know that us and our baggage is like nothing to him, he could carry two elephants on his back and barely strain a muscle. I help Nick and Drew get strapped in their seats then go and sit in mine behind my father.

"All set back there?" Flash asked, craning his head about so he could see his passengers.

"Yes, sir!" we chorused and then the bronze breathes his mist breath over us, so we don't suffer from dizziness or altitude sickness.

Then his great wings beat once, twice, three times and with a huge leap we're airborne. The wind screamed past my ears and I laughed in sheer delight. No matter how many times I've flown before, it never fails to make me smile. Behind me I can hear the twins gasping and yelling in excitement.

Once we're airborne and high up enough to avoid being seen by any Muggle radar, safely masked from their technology, Fireflash began to sing. The flight to Martha's Vineyard is a short one, only three hours, but that's plenty of time for Flash to serenade us with his vast repertoire of songs.

When the dragon had sang about ten of them though, the twins and I decided to give him a break and started singing some of our own tunes. We started out by singing "99 Bottles of Butterbeer on the Wall", altered for the sake of my dad, who wouldn't think it funny if we were singing about drinking beer. Once we'd got bored singing that though, we changed it to something more fun. Or at least we three found it amusing.

"98 Death Eaters against a wall, you shoot one down, pass the wand around, 97 Death Eaters against a wall," sang Drew.

"Andrew Marciano!" cried Teri, not at all pleased at the turn our song had suddenly taken.

I halted in mid-note, for it was my turn next. Dad had managed to peer halfway around the back of the seat and was glaring at me. "Where did you ever learn such trash?" he demanded.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Everyone at school sings it," I answered. "Why? What's so bad about it?"

"Gavin Snape! Do I really need to answer that question?"

"What? It's about killing Death Eaters, Dad! Who cares?"

"Exactly. It's about killing, not something that should be treated so casually," Dad reprimanded. "And it doesn't matter what you're killing, I don't like the fact that you're making a joke out of it. Now sing something more appropriate."

"Like what? Miss Mary Mack?" I sneered.

"Watch your tone, young man," Dad warned. "Unless you want to get in trouble on your first day of vacation."

I bit my lip and sighed. "Sorry," I muttered. But I couldn't keep my mouth shut, as usual. "Why do you care so much about a song that talks about killing bad guys anyway, Dad? I mean, _you_ killed Lucius Malfoy and a couple of other Death Eaters back during the war with Voldemort."

"I killed them out of necessity, Gavin, to save innocent lives. It's not something I brag about, and I certainly don't sing about it!" Dad answered sharply. "Killing shouldn't be something you do for fun, it's a serious business, and trivializing it by making a song about it is wrong. Do you understand what I'm saying, boys?"

"Yes, sir!" we answered, because we knew it was wiser to just go along with him.

But at that time I didn't understand half his reasoning, even though I'd killed a known Death Eater myself. Goyle's death was more an accident than an intentional killing, and though I didn't like the fact that I'd used my firecalling powers to kill, I sure as bloody hell didn't regret that he was dead.

"Your Uncle Sev's right," Aunt Teri put in. "When he fought in the last wizard war over in Britain, he only killed when he had to, like any other soldier in wartime. But we're not barbarians, to bring home scalps or shrunken heads of our enemies. Killing's not something you should be proud of."

"Okay, Mom. We get it," Nick sighed. "We'll sing something else."

I poked my head around the side of my seat and caught Drew's eye, rolling mine expressively. He in turn just gave me a look, which I interpreted to mean, _Grown-ups! What do you expect? They don't get anything._

I nodded in silent agreement, then I tried to think up another song we could all sing and not make our parents think we were all bloodthirsty brats. I finally settled on "Great Balls of Fire", since I was playing about with a small flame on the end of my finger, making it flicker and dance, turning it all the colors of the rainbow. I was getting mighty bored sitting still for so long, even though riding Flash was pleasant.

So I started to sing, and then the twins and Flash joined in. Even Aunt Teri sang along after a few minutes, and thus we passed the last hour and a half of our flight to Massachusetts. The only one who didn't sing was Dad, but that's 'cause he thought he had a terrible voice. Actually, he wasn't bad, I've caught him singing a few bars of Christmas carols when he thought nobody was around, but he doesn't think he can sing, so he won't let anyone hear him.

* * * * * *

We landed just outside Martha's Vineyard, on a deserted stretch of beach, since it's an island just five miles off the coast of Massachusetts. From there we Apparated to our hotel. It took us four trips though, because only the adults could do that spell and they had to travel with only one minor at a time. The fourth trip was to get all of our luggage and stuff.

Dad told Flash he'd let the bronze know when we needed a return flight back home to Jersey, thanked him for bringing us, then we went to the front desk to check into the hotel, which was a wizarding residence called _The Merry Magician_. Weird name for a hotel, if you ask me. Sounds like they ought to be a band or something. It was located in Edgarstown, which is one of the big tourist attractions on the island. Edgarstown is built, or maintained, I should say, to resemble a thriving colonial town, with cobblestone streets and signs with odd spellings. It's quaint, I think is the word I'm looking for, and one of the first things we did after unpacking was go to the Martha Vineyard Museum to learn about the background and history of the place.

Aunt Teri and Dad are crazy about museums, and I don't mind them too much, there's always neat artifacts and stories in them. But the twins got bored walking around inside and soon they started bickering, until Dad shot them one of his "behave or else" looks and Aunt Teri told them to knock it off before she smacked them upside the head. They settled down.

"Figures." Nick muttered to me while we were looking at a display of old Indian artifacts. "First thing we do is get dragged to a freakin' museum. Why couldn't we do something fun, like go to the beach?"

"Maybe we will later," I said diplomatically.

"Oh sure. Right after we eat lunch in some fancy restaurant and then go shopping. By the time we get down to the beach, all the good surf's gonna be gone," Nick huffed. He's a diehard surfer.

"Says who?" I asked.

"Me. You've never been on vacation with my mom before, Gav."

I'd never been on a vacation period, but I wasn't about to admit that. I didn't want my cousins to think I was some poor schmuck, know what I mean? They knew a bit about my background, mainly that I'd been raised in an orphanage, had run away and joined a gang, but not everything. I wasn't ready for them to know the whole story, they weren't the kind I'd trust with the truth, they were too immature and I didn't want them feeling sorry for me either. I didn't need anybody's pity, God knows.

It turned out Nick was half right, anyway. After we did the museum thing, we went to eat at a place called The Seafood Shanty. It was a Muggle restaurant, most of them were, not that we cared. I mean, food is food, right? The best thing I had there, besides the boiled lobster, which I shared with Dad (since it was huge), was the Lobster Quesedillas. They were absolutely incredible! I wished I knew the recipe.

After lunch, Aunt Teri said we could go to the beach while she went shopping at some of the boutiques and stuff. Dad volunteered to watch us, I know he'd rather be walking along the beach than getting dragged into stores, since Aunt Teri's another diehard shopaholic, like all the Amarotti women.

We spent a good two hours or so swimming in the ocean and bodyboarding on the rented boards they had at the surf rental shop. I'm not all gung ho for swimming, guess that goes along with being a firecaller, but I didn't complain, since the twins love it and I didn't want to whine like a little girl. I spend part of that time paddling around on the board talking with a curious seagull and a young sea turtle. The twins surfed, using magic to catch the best waves and balance on the surfboards like experts. Show offs.

But soon enough they got tired and headed in to catch some rays and I followed. We lounged around on the beach for another half-an-hour, drinking iced tea and water Dad bought us at the snackbar, and munching on some chips. Then Aunt Teri came over and suggested we go back to the hotel to get showered and changed and maybe take a nap before dinner, so that's what we did.

We had two rooms with a connecting door between them, one for us boys and the other for the adults. Both rooms had two huge double beds, though Drew teased Dad about having to share a room with his mom. "I hope you know, she snores, Uncle Sev."

"Andrew! I do not!" Aunt Teri cried. "How would you know anyhow? You don't sleep in the same room with me, buster."

"Dad said so," her son smirked.

"And you believe your father?" his mom snorted, pretending to be offended.

"Well, yeah. Why would he lie?" Drew asked, wearing his best totally innocent look.

Teri just gave him a Look. Then Dad chimed in with, "It won't matter if she snores or not, Drew. I'll just cast a Muffliato charm."

"Oh, real nice, Sev," Teri frowned, giving my father another Look. "For your information, Director, I do _not_ snore. Johnny was exaggerating."

Dad cocked an eyebrow at her, his eyes sparkling with good humor. "Really? Me thinketh the lady doth protest too much, eh, lads?"

"Yeah," I said, grinning. "Where's there's smoke, there's fire."

"All of you are impossible!" Teri growled. Then she gestured and the next thing we know, pillows are attacking us.

"Pillow fight!" shrieked Nick, and sent two flying back at his mother with a quickly cast levitate spell.

For a few minutes the air was filled with white and blue pillows, but we managed to bombard my aunt until Dad turned the tables on us and changed sides.

"Traitor!" I shouted.

"All's fair in love and war, scamp!" yelled my father, nailing me with a large extra firm pillow.

I fell on the bed, laughing. Pretty soon though, we ran out of ammunition, and had to call it quits. It was fun while it lasted, though. I couldn't remember the last time I had such fun.

"All right. Playtime's over," my dad declared. "Go and get washed up, boys."

"What for?" whined Nick, who never knows when to quit. "The ocean's clean enough."

"Sure it is, if you're a seal," his mom stated. "Now do as your uncle says, Nicholas."

"Aww, Mom . . .!"

"Quit whining," Dad ordered, for he hates that sort of thing, as I know well. "You sound like a three-year-old. Now get!" Nick flashed him a sulky frown and Dad's eyes narrowed in warning. "Unless you need me to help you take a bath, Mr. Marciano."

"No!" Nick yelped, horrified. "Christ, Uncle Sev!" He turned and bolted into the bathroom.

"Idiot!" Drew snorted. "You'd think he'd learn when to keep his trap shut."

"He will, by the time this vacation's over," I predicted, then I head into the other bathroom. Unlike Nick, I know when to pick my battles.

* * * * * *

We intended to spend three days on the island, enough time to see all the tourist attractions before hopping over to Salem. The second day we go to visit Chappaquiddick forest and the Mytoi Gardens, which are some really nice Japanese gardens. Nick and Drew don't mind walking outdoors, but they can't walk at anything resembling a slow pace and end up chasing each other all over the trails. I joined in for a bit, until Dad snagged the back of my jacket and gave me a thunderous glance and snapped, "Gavin Albus Snape, behave!"

"Yes, sir." I said quickly, knowing better than to protest. He's death on kids misbehaving in public.

Aunt Teri collared the twins and lectured them after they nearly knocked down an elderly couple with their antics and made them walk on either side of her. "Just like a bunch of kindergarten babies," grumbled Drew, for once the more vocal of the pair.

"If you didn't act like a five-year-old, Andrew John, I wouldn't need to treat you like one," scolded Aunt Teri. "You know better than that. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"Yeah you have, Mom." Nick remarked slyly. "Remember the time we were having Christmas one year when we were three and Drew opened the door of the bathroom while you were getting changed and yelled, "Look at my mom's macarenas!"

"Shut up, Nick, you dumbass!" Drew cried angrily, reaching around his mother to sock his twin one in the shoulder. "You always bring that up!"

Aunt Teri was red as a tomato, then she chuckled and said, "Yes, well, he was only three, what did he know?"

"Plenty," her son muttered, and was promptly swatted by his mother.

I couldn't help myself. I started to snicker, for I can just picture it, the houseful of people and Aunt Teri standing there with all her, uh, assets on display. Before long Nick and I were howling, much to Aunt Teri's dismay. Even my father wore a slight smirk, before he realized that Teri was acutely embarrassed. Then he sobered and growled at us to stop it before he made us write an essay on how to behave in public. _That_ froze us in mid-chuckle. We then promise to behave for the rest of the afternoon, though that night I made Nick tell me the whole story all over again, and we muffled our laughter in the pillows for half the night.

* * * * * *

But by the third day, the twins' patience was running short, as Aunt Teri insisted that we go visit the Gay-Head Lighthouse, which was rather interesting, but then she just had to poke about in all the little antique stores and shops, which simply drove all of us men crazy. I knew Dad was too polite to ever say so, but he liked shopping about as much as contracting a stomach virus, much the same as the rest of us.

Me, I could take it or leave it. The only shopping I liked to do on a regular basis is for food, books, and video games. Anything else was a waste of time. But I didn't complain, because I knew better. Whining got you nothing but a very annoyed Severus Snape on your ass, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Nick and Drew, on the other hand, were quite PO'd and didn't care if the whole of the island knew it. They spent the entire time Aunt Teri was shopping complaining and bickering with each other until it even annoyed me a little. The last straw though, was when Nick shoved Drew into a rack of sparkly shirts and started a knock-down drag-out fight.

Or it would have been a fight if my father hadn't stepped in and grabbed both of them by the ear. "Outside! _Now!_" he ordered in a tone that would have made a Marine sergeant tremble.

"B-but Uncle Sev, _he_ started it!" protested Drew.

"Did I ask who started it, Andrew?" Dad snarled, hauling the two out the shop entrance. "Now march!"

"Ow! Not so hard!" whimpered Nick, trying without success to free himself from my father's grip.

"I'm so sorry," Aunt Teri was apologizing to the salesgirl.

By the time I'd made it outside, Dad had the twins sitting on opposite ends of a bench, giving them one of his angry teacher glares that always meant detention.

Aunt Teri appeared a moment later, looking equally angry. "Come on, we're going back to the hotel. I've had it up to here with your bickering, Nicholas and Andrew!"

We trudged back to the hotel, aware that we were in for a lecture when we got inside. Or at least the twins were. For once, I'd managed not to get into trouble.

Sure enough, once we were back in the room, Aunt Teri lit into them.

"I just don't know what comes over you! Squabbling like a pair of four-year-olds! I can't take you anywhere, can I? You're both old enough to know better," she began, her hands on her hips, glaring at them fiercely.

To my surprise, neither of them seemed sorry for their behavior. Nick's lower lip stuck out in a pout and he snapped, "Well, it's partly _your_ fault, Mom, for dragging us into every stupid store on the island. You promised us we could go fishing!"

"Yeah, and instead we get to go shopping! How fun is that?" grumbled Drew.

"I said you could go fishing after lunch and it's only twelve o'clock," his mother cried.

"Yeah, and we've been shopping for three damn_ hours_!" Nick cried.

"You watch your tone when you speak to me, young man!"

Nick flushed. "Fine, but if you wanted a shopping partner, maybe you should've brought Marietta. God Almighty, Mom!"

Aunt Teri looked like she was about to spit nails. But before she could lay into her disrespectful child, my dad did.

"Nicholas Leonardo Marciano! Apologize to your mother this instant," he said in a voice that could have made Lucifer beg.

"Why should I? It's the truth, Uncle Sev," Nick said belligerently.

"Because I said so!" Dad snapped, his eyes blazing. "You will_ not_ speak to your mother like that, young man. Now apologize."

Nick shrank from him. "Okay. I'm sorry," he muttered.

"Better." He frowned sternly at them. "I think you two and I need to have a talk about your behavior." He glanced at Teri. "With your permission, Teri?"

"Go right ahead, Sev. The mood I'm in right now, I'm libel to throttle them."

"I can't blame you," Dad agreed. "Come here, both of you." He opened the door to our bedroom and gestured for them to proceed him. They went, looking like prisoners about to go to the executioner's block. Dad shut the door behind him.

Aunt Teri said she was going to take a shower to calm herself down. I didn't say anything, simply flopped down in one of the chairs next to the writing desk. But as soon as she was gone, I crept to the connecting door and put my ear to it.

I could just make out my dad's voice, and I winced at the disapproval in it. I'd been on the receiving end of _that_ tone too many times to count and I could sympathize with my cousins a little. And also be grateful that wasn't _me_ getting verbally walloped by Dad's tongue.

" . . .absolutely no excuse whatsoever for you speaking so disrespectfully to your mother, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Drew responded.

But Nick protested, "Okay, maybe I shouldn't have said that, Uncle Sev, but come _on_-"

"No excuses, Nicholas!" Dad snapped. "It doesn't matter what she was doing or if you liked it or not, she's your mother, and an adult, not you and the very least you owe her is respect. Now, are you clear on that, mister?"

"Yes, sir," came Nick's answer, a great deal more subdued.

"Good. Then-"

"But it's not fair!" Nick interrupted him. "I mean, it's our vacation, why should we be dragged all over creation to go shopping when she knows we hate it? She promised us we could go fishing this morning and next thing I know we're going to another stupid lighthouse or whatever."

"First of all, your mom did _not_ promise you we'd go fishing this morning, Nicholas," Dad corrected sternly. "Let's not argue facts here. I heard her say she would go fishing in the afternoon, since that was the earliest we could charter a boat. Second, do you think it's fair to your mother to do everything you want to and nothing that she wants to? It's her vacation too, young man, something I think both of you've seem to have forgotten."

"We haven't. How could you think that, Uncle Sev?" Drew argued.

"How could I think that?" there was an edge to his voice now that meant he was getting more irritated. "Because all I've heard out of your mouths for the past three days is "Mom, I want this, Mom I want that, Mom I want to do this, that's boring. And when you don't get your way you turn into a pair of whiny five-year-olds, pouting and complaining. You've been acting just like spoiled brats this entire time and I've had all I can take of it. Stop thinking the whole world revolves around you and start thinking of others for a change, namely your mom, who's paying for you to do all those fun things you've asked for and I haven't heard a thank you from either of you. Disgraceful! If I were your father, I'd ground the pair of you for a week for your atrocious behavior."

"If you were our father, that's not all you'd be doing," Nick muttered.

"What was that?"

"He said if you were our dad, we'd be getting our butts warmed as well as grounded," Drew answered for his twin.

"No doubt. I'm sure your mother's considered it," their uncle said. "I've considered it myself."

I highly doubted that. I knew he hated disciplining like that, but he was going for some major scare tactics here.

"No, please," Nick said quickly. "We'll be good, Uncle Sev."

"Promise," Drew added. Plainly they'd forgotten what I'd told them about my dad's version of a spanking, which didn't involve a ruler.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Dad snorted. Then he added sharply, "And I'd better be seeing it today, boys. Because any more of this behavior and you'll be spending the rest of this vacation in a hotel room, writing a two-foot essay for me on respecting your mother. Not only that, but you'll probably be writing it with a sore bottom, if your mother has anything to say about it, which she certainly does. Is that what you want?"

"No, sir," they answered in practically the same breath.

"Didn't think so. Consider this lecture a warning, the only warning you're going to get. If you choose to ignore it or continue your spoiled behavior, you know the consequences, and you'll have no one to blame but yourselves. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, Uncle Sev."

"Good. Now let's enjoy the rest of this vacation and hopefully I won't need to have this discussion with you again." Dad concluded.

I quickly moved away from the door upon hearing footsteps on the other side. When the door opened, I was sitting in the chair by the writing desk, reading one of my books. Dad eyed me shrewdly then said, "Some of what you overheard, Gavin, was for your benefit as well."

I gaped at him. "What?" I sputtered. "But . . .how did . . .?"

"I'm your father, I know everything," he smirked. Then he went towards the second bathroom to take his own shower, leaving me staring after him like a landed fish. I swear to God, the man can see through the damn wall!

**Next: The mystery deepens and the ghosts of Salem's past come back to haunt them**


	8. Echoes of the Past

**Echoes of the Past**

After my father's little talk, the twins decided to shape up, and there were no more problems. That night we left Martha's Vineyard, after a meal of freshly caught fish grilled with special seasonings, courtesy of the boat we'd chartered and the talents of the twins, who were excellent fishermen. And no, they didn't use magic either. As promised, we were going to spend a few days in Salem, despite the old rumor that no self-respecting magician or wizard ever goes to Salem.

This was partially because of us kids and also because Dad still needed to check on that information with his operative over there. Which meant that while Aunt Teri took us around to see the sights, like the famous Witch's House and Gallows Hill where they used to hang those convicted of witchcraft, Dad would be contacting his people and following up on those rumors I've mentioned, about people being targeted and if the Brotherhood of the Shining Path really was active again.

I couldn't wait to explore Salem. Something about it really drew me, though it was only later that I knew what it was. Right then I was just curious about how such a small town became involved in one of the worst witch hunts in the country. At least it was a small town back in 1690's. It wasn't that small now, but a lot of the historical places had been preserved, so we could see exactly what it had been like to live back then.

Back then, what we now know as Salem was actually two places, Salem Town and Salem Village. Salem Town was on the coast of Massachusetts Bay, it had prime shipping and trading opportunities. Salem Village, on the other hand, was inland, a farming community that had been hit hard by the French and Indian War and an epidemic of smallpox, as well as crop failure and bad weather. There were only a few influential families, read wealthy ones, in Salem Village, one being the Putnams and the other the Porters, who were fighting for political control over the village. Back then politics was linked to land, meaning the more land you had the more wealth you had. I guess it's the same thing today, sort of. Anyway, land meant power and so did religious influence. See, politics and religion were linked together in colonial times, there was no separation of church and state then, like there was after the Revolutionary War. So a rich man could appoint or invite a minister back then to come and preach for his village and thus have influence over the town.

Which is exactly what John Putnam did. In 1688, he invited Samuel Parris, who used to be a planter and merchant in Barbados, to become Salem's new preacher. I guess anybody could become a minister back then as long as they could read and had a little education, they didn't need to go to a seminary college or have a serious vocation. Then again, I'm not Protestant, I'm Catholic, so maybe it's different for them. Yeah, I know that sounds really weird, a Catholic wizard, but hey, God hasn't struck me dead yet for being what I am, or Sev either, for that matter.

I'd learned a lot of this stuff during my history class with Mr. Andrews and even more when we visited the Salem Witchcraft Museum, which had many documents and objects from the actual trials, accused witches' houses, and that kind of thing. This time, Nick and Drew didn't protest at all about being dragged to a museum, and I don't think it was for fear of being punished by our parents. They, like me, were fascinated by the Salem Witch Trials.

One of the greatest ironies about it was that out of the hundreds of accused and the nineteen convicted for witchcraft, only one woman was actually a true witch. That one, Sarah Good, was an earth magician, and she died to save her child, who had also been accused of witchcraft. Little Dorcas was only four and later went insane as a result of watching her mother die and being treated like an animal by the so-called God-fearing magistrates of Salem.

It was Dad who told us that little tidbit, for the sacrifice of Sarah Good was recorded in the church ledgers of the wizard minister he'd spoken to, a Mr. Ambrose, who was also a member of the Hunters, though not an actual Hunter, but he worked for the DHI as an informant.

"She made a deal with the magistrate and judge, John Hawthorne, that she would go to her death willingly and confess to witchcraft if only he would spare her daughter. Sarah was innocent of any wrongdoing, she only used her magic for good, but she knew in the end it could not save her and thus she sacrificed herself for her child, like any good mother would." Ambrose said to my father. "A sad story, made even more tragic by the fate of poor Dorcas, who was driven mad by the things she witnessed. The child was a latent empath, or so it was recorded, and it was thought she experienced the final death of her mother, and it was this that drove her insane. She was also a magician, but her powers never manifested after that, which was perhaps a blessing in disguise."

"What a terrible tragedy!" Aunt Teri cried upon hearing it. "That poor child. It's too bad I couldn't go back in time, I'd give those-those holier-than-thou bastard judges what for! Condemning innocent people to death and making a four year old watch her own mother's death! It's sick and disgusting."

"Go, Mom!" cheered Nick.

"They made her _watch_ it?" Drew asked, looking ill. "Like the whole thing? Ugh!"

"That was a common practice back then," my dad sighed. "Public executions were meant to be viewed by everyone, and children were no exception. It was believed that if the kids saw a criminal executed it would serve as a warning-_that's_ what will happen if you're bad, so don't ever steal or practice witchcraft. I don't know how many children ever got the message though, since from what I read, a lot of them got desensitized to violent death by witnessing hangings and such."

"It was barbaric, was what it was!" Teri said angrily. "You don't need to put a child through that kind of torture in order to discourage them from stealing or whatever. I'd wager half of those poor kids ended up with nightmares and psychological trauma from being made to watch such a disgusting practice. If I were a parent back then, I'd of refused to make my child watch such a thing."

"And you'd have been accused of being a witch sympathizer, Teri," Dad pointed out with a wry smile.

"Humph! Well, I _am_ a witch sympathizer, Sev, and proud of it. So there!" And she gave him a glare that could have roasted him.

"Hey, take it easy, Dragon Lady, I'm not the enemy here," Dad soothed, holding up his hands. "You want to blast somebody, go dig up John Hawthorne or Rev. Samuel Parris, since they started the whole thing."

Dragon Lady's his nickname for Aunt Teri, since she can be as fierce as a bronze dragon when she's mad.

We were all sitting, or in Nick and Drew's case, sprawling in our hotel room, which was another suite like before, discussing all the interesting things we'd learned about the trials at the museum. We'd eaten a huge lunch at a place called The Craft Tavern ( as in witchcraft), Dad had met us there after he'd gone to talk with Mr. Ambrose.

"Not quite, Dad. They were big participators, but Tituba and those four girls were the ones who really started it," I informed him. I was sure he probably knew that, he read more than I did, but I couldn't resist this opportunity to lecture _him_ for once.

He exchanged amused glances with Aunt Teri, then settled down in one of the comfortable wicker chairs and said, "Oh, really? Tell me about it, Mr. Snape."

"Yeah, let's hear it, _Professor_," Nick jeered.

I cast him an irritated glare. "Button it, Marciano, before I cast a tongue-tying hex on you."

"You and what army?"

"Shut it, Nick!" ordered Drew, socking his twin in the arm.

Nick stuck out his tongue at his brother, but settled down after a warning glare from his mother.

I cleared my throat, then I began. "Well, from everything that was written and documented, the witch hunt began sometime in February of 1692. It was really cold, more so than usual, and these four girls had been going over to the Parris house to visit Tituba, Sam Parris's slave from Barbados. Tituba was full of stories about voodoo and fortune telling and that sort of thing, but it wasn't real magic, just superstition. But the girls didn't know that, and they believed what she told them."

"What were their names?" Aunt Teri prompted.

"Uh, one of them was Betty Parris, the minister's daughter. She was twelve. Then there was Ann Putnam, she was eleven, Mercy Lewis, seventeen, and Mary Walcott, I think she was fifteen."

"Show off, memorizing their names and how old they were," Nick said derisively.

Drew elbowed him in the ribs.

"Get off me!"

"Nicholas, did I just hear you volunteer to write an essay for me?" Dad cut in, flashing my cousin one of his famous glares.

"Huh? I mean, no sir!" Nick stammered, then went red and clamped his mouth shut.

"That's what I thought. Continue, please, Gavin."

I shot Dad a grateful look, then I resumed my story. "Umm . . .where was I? Oh yeah, the girls liked to listen to Tituba tell all these freaky stories about black magic and stuff she'd learned in Barbados, where they practiced voodoo. Maybe that's what gave Betty the idea to start pretending she was being possessed by a witch. Only they didn't really call it that, they said she was being tormented by a spectral presence of a witch. Like a witch's astral form, I guess you could say. They were real big on the devil influencing people back then, typical Puritans, and they saw signs of Satan and evil in just about everything." _Like Ferrous_, I thought darkly, recalling with a wince the way he used to scream "I'm going to beat that devil influence out of you if it's the last thing I do, boy!" just before he switched me.

"I think she was just a bored spoiled little kid that wanted attention, and what better way to get it than by acting like she was possessed?"

"Like Marietta," Nick remarked impudently. "I swear sometimes she's possessed, all right."

"One more word out of you, young man, and I'm going to take you over my knee," snapped Aunt Teri.

Nick gulped and backed away to the furthest corner of the bed, well out of reach of his mom's hand.

"Anyway . . ." I shot my cousin a shut-up-or-else look. "She started acting really weird. She claimed she had a fever, but it made her hallucinate or something, because she ran all over yelling and having fits, falling on the floor and convulsing, crawling under the furniture, screaming that somebody was pinching her. Must have made her parents real scared, 'cause they called in a doctor, but nothing he did made her any better. Soon as he was gone, she started having fits again and nothing her parents did had any effect.

"I guess she must have liked all the attention she was getting, since she was the youngest girl, because she kept right on convulsing and all that till the doctor was sent for again. His name was William Griggs. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn't anything physical.

"About the same time, Betty's other girlfriends got the same idea, and they started doing it too, fainting, convulsing, screaming and acting possessed. Now Griggs was really in trouble, because all these girls had the same symptoms but he didn't know what was wrong with them. So he starts looking around for something to blame it on.

"The obvious thing to blame it on was the devil, of course. He'd read a book by a guy named Cotton Mather, another preacher who believed in witches, it was called . . ." I paused a moment. "Memorable Providences, and it described a similar case of witchcraft in Boston, and the symptoms mirrored the girls' exactly."

"Probably that's where they'd gotten the idea, from reading it too," Aunt Teri surmised.

"Yeah, that's what I figured. They probably read it together and then decided to pretend to be attacked by spectral witches or whatever. So Griggs tells all the girls' parents that their kids are the victims of witchcraft and it was known that witches targeted children, look at all the fairy tales. What could they do about it?

"A neighbor, Mary Sibley, knew a countercharm, supposedly." I grinned. "Know what she told Tituba to do? She told her to bake a rye cake made with some of the afflicted girl's pee and feed it to a dog. Dogs were believed to be witches' familiars, associated with the devil, see?"

Drew snickered. "No way, Gav! You're making that up. That's-that's the dumbest thing I ever heard of. Not to mention gross."

"Swear to God, I'm not. Mr. Andrews told me that, it was in a book called _Countermagic in the Days of the Salem Witch Hunts._" I told him.

He rolled his eyes. "Muggles! How stupid can they get?"

"They were ignorant, not stupid," Dad corrected softly. "And not all Muggles believed in superstition either. Go on, Gavin."

"Well, Tituba did what Mary Sibley said and soon suspicion began to fall on her. She was a slave, she wasn't English, and she was known to believe in heathen practices, like voodoo and fortune telling, which were sins to the Puritans. Before you know it, the girls' other friends joined in the afflicted group, until there were seven altogether. The new girls' names were Elizabeth Hubbard, Mary Warren, and Susannah Sheldon.

"I think the doctor said they could be freed from their affliction if they named the witch behind it, and that's what made Betty and Mercy turn on Tituba. Or maybe Tituba threatened to tell on them, that they were making it all up, then they'd have gotten a good whipping for sure. The whole town was obsessed now, seeing the devil and witches everywhere. So the girls quickly named Tituba, Sarah Osborn, and Sarah Good.

"Tituba was named for the reason I said before, Sarah Good was a real magician, but I'm sure nobody knew that, just that she was single mom with a child, which was odd back then, and Osborn was old, quarrelsome, and hadn't gone to church in the last year. Perfect targets, since they were town misfits and didn't have anybody to defend them.

"And the girls, especially Ann Putnam, were backed by their families, who were rich and powerful. So they arrested Tituba and the two Sarahs on witchcraft charges. The complaints were brought before two county magistrates, one of them was John Hawthorne and the other Jonathan Corwin. They held an examination and the whole town showed up to see it. The girls did their fake possession act and the magistrates bought it, it was so good.

"They were helped by the other people in Salem who told stories about how their milk had turned sour when one of the women went by and their goat got sick and all kinds of stupid nonsense. But taken together, it looked like the three were cursing people and the magistrates kept asking Tituba and the other two if they were witches and if they'd spoken to Satan, and insisting they were evil.

"After a couple of days of this, Tituba broke, I'm sure they were threatening her with stuff like hot irons too, and admitted she was a witch and she'd met the devil and signed in his book and so did the two Sarah's and two other women. She also said they could take spectral form and fly through the air on broomsticks."

"Poor woman! She must have figured they were going to hang her anyhow, might as well make them hang her for something, since they wouldn't believe she was innocent," Teri said, shaking her head.

"After that, Parris and Hawthorne and the rest started hunting down witches like crazy. The girls were naming people left and right, I think they were on a power trip and wanted to see how far they could go. It was like a game."

"Some game! People died based on their little stories," my father scowled.

"Not at first. At first all they did was throw the accused in jail. It wasn't until they brought a Grand Jury together that they convicted the original three and hanged them," I said. "After that, I think the girls realized what they'd done, or maybe they didn't, but it was too late to stop. It was like wildfire, people went mad, and pointed fingers at their neighbors for anything. Next thing you knew, they'd accused little Dorcas of being a witch and threw her in jail too, along with sixteen others."

"And that number grew, as neighbor turned upon neighbor," Dad spoke up. "When it ended, nineteen innocent women had been hung, and one old man pressed to death because he refused to admit he was a warlock."

"Pressed to death? What's that mean, Uncle Sev?" asked Nick.

"It was a nasty execution. Giles Corey was in his eighties and they tied him on the ground and piled huge stones on him until he was crushed to death."

"That's horrible!" cried Drew. "Why didn't somebody stop it?"

"It was far too late for that, Drew. By then the hysteria was in full cry, although after Corey's death and the death of George Burroughs, the former minister of Salem, the magistrates began to seriously question the evidence they'd received. They finally realized that some of the evidence was false, though of course they didn't dare admit it, but they voted to dismiss spectral evidence as inadmissible for testimony and eventually the new governor of the colony stepped in and declared the witch hunt officially over and released all those accused still alive from jail."

"What happened to the girls?" Nick wanted to know. "Did they ever get found out for liars?"

Dad shook his head. "The only one to ever admit that she lied was Ann Putnam, and this was only after her parents were dead from a fever several years later. She admitted that her testimony was fabricated, mostly because her father wanted to buy land from several families who refused to sell to him. So he encouraged her to name members of those households so he could get his greedy fingers on their land once the family was discredited and destroyed. The others never admitted anything and they died liars and murderers."

"Judge Hawthorne's grandson Nathaniel was so ashamed of the fact that his grandpa sentenced innocent women to death that he spelled his name with a "w" to make people think they weren't related," I recalled. "Before that, he spelled his name H-a-t-h-o-r-n-e."

"Can't say I blame him. It must have been a black disgrace to have a relative involved in persecuting those women, once the truth was known," Aunt Teri said. "And that's why, boys, you must be very careful about starting rumors, because they can get out of control before you know it, and hurt innocent people terribly."

All of us nodded. Then I turned to my father. "Dad, is it true that there still are people who believe in, uh, witch hunts today?" I was fishing for information on his case and well he knew it. "Like that Brotherhood of the Shining Path or whatever."

He sighed and didn't reply for a moment. Then at last he said, "Yes, unfortunately there are still bigoted and self-righteous people out there looking for people to blame the world's ills on. The Brotherhood of the Shining Path is related to those Salem witch hunters, and they continue to search out anyone they believe is in league with magic or witches and bring them to justice."

"Sev, you don't mean they kill them?" Teri gasped.

My father nodded again. "Yes, there have been reports to that effect. Not recently, but years ago . . .The Brotherhood thinks it's their sworn duty to exterminate witches, wizards, and anyone or anything associated with them off the face of the earth. They're white Puritan supremacists, like the Nazis."

"Or the Ku Klux Klan," I added.

"Yes, but not as widespread. That's what I'm doing, trying to track down the truth behind these sudden rumors and the families who've been targeted by someone," Dad said. Then he stretched and stood up. "And that's all I'm going to tell you, Gavin, so quit trying to nose more information out of me, boy." He shook a warning finger at me. "Remember, young man, curiosity killed the cat."

I knew what he meant. I'd better stop asking questions that were none of my business, before it got me in trouble. "Yes, sir," I said, but then I thought rebelliously _Curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back._ And the only thing that would satisfy me now was getting to the bottom of this Shining Path mystery.

If my dad wouldn't share information with me, then I'd have to find out some other way. By doing some rather clever sneaking and spying of my own. It was something I was quite good at, former street thief and pickpocket that I was. Not to mention the son of the US's top spymaster. Severus Snape didn't raise any dumb sons, and it was killing me to know what connection the Brotherhood had to these accused people and the witch trials.

* * * * * *

Later on that night, I crept like a shadow into the room where my father and aunt were sleeping. I might not be a thief any more, but I hadn't forgotten all my lessons from Smoke and the Ravens. I needed to sneak a look in my dad's little black notebook, where he kept a list of names of people to talk to when he was working a case.

I knew if I'd been caught, I'd be dead meat, no question about it. But my luck was flying tonight and I found the book tucked in his backpack and slipped it under my pajamas quick as blinking. Then I slipped back into my own room and into the bathroom, where I could turn on the light and quickly scan the pages.

I also used my firecalling talent to erect a skintight light shield over the bathroom, so it would appear dark if anyone happened to wake up, which wasn't too likely, my cousins were snoring soundly.

I scanned rapidly through the book, it was organized by date and cases, in my father's typical neat small script. Ah ha! Here we go-Salem Rumors and Targets, Possible Witch Hunt? Beneath that heading were the names of the four families, and what they'd had done to their house or whatever.

_Amberly family: Jacob (father), Marie (mother) and 2 children (Gail, age 5) and Selina (age 12)_

_Poppet hung on their front lawn in elm tree and warning notes left in mailbox-witches go home or else we'll get you! Wizarding family-children half-bloods, father Muggle._

_Cosgrove family: Mary (mother), Abe (father, deceased), 3 children Ally (age 2), Eva (age 5) and Anna ( age 13), also a cat Sugar._

_Red paint in the sign of a pentagram painted on their driveway plus broomsticks and the words witches live here, devil worshippers. We know who you are! Cat also painted with black witchcraft symbols._

_Ashe family: Kevin (father), Linda(mother) and 2 children Bobby (age 6) and Kelsey (age 9), also a cat and a dog, Mystic and Shimmer, black cat and white Pomeranian. Mother is a magician, children potentials._

_Poppet attached to car with pins in it and paint and eggs smeared all over car and on childrens' playhouse. Message attached to poppet read: Repent of thy sins, witch mother and turn to the Light again, or else suffer the fate of those before you._

These were written in the order they'd been vandalized. First the Amberlys had been targeted, next the Cosgroves, and then the Ashes. It looked as though the warnings had gotten more explicit as the weeks went on, far as I could tell. That last one made the hairs on the back of my neck bristle.

The last name on the list belonged to the old woman my cousin had called "the crazy cat lady".

_Evelyn Proctor (age 75, widow) lives alone save for her seven cats, Abigail, Silk, Pounce, Juniper, Lily, Misty, and Scamper._

_Found an effigy of a cat burned in her front yard and one of her cats tied in a sack, cat unharmed. Paint splashed all over front of house with pentacles, pitchforks, and other Satanic symbols, and the word Witch! scrawled on her front door. Pinned to one of her cat's collars was the note: This is the devil's familiar, as are you. Admit thy guilt and walk in the Light, or else suffer the wrath of the righteous, Handmaid of Satan. _

I shivered as I read that last. These people, whatever they called themselves, were seriously touched in the head. Screwed up beyond belief. If I were that old lady, I'd hire a police escort to watch my house and buy a Doberman to guard the property.

I flipped over the page and saw a checklist of informants, Mr. Ambrose was checked off at the top of the list. Then I saw Evelyn Proctor's name again. What's this? She was a DHI informant? Yes, according to Dad's notes, she was connected to the wizarding world, her sister Wilimina had been one of us, but she had died last year. Evelyn was a Muggle, but she knew all about the wizarding community.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. She had probably seen a lot, given how old she was. Perhaps I could go and talk with her, see what she knew about the Brotherhood of the Shining Path. But I had to move fast, before Dad visited her first. And I'd have to do it in disguise. Now I could put the lessons Fireflash had taught me into practice, and see how well I'd really learned to illusion cast.

Tomorrow, I'd find a way to see her tomorrow, when the twins and I were wandering about Salem. Of course, I'd have to invent an excuse as to why I needed to disappear, because there was no way I could trust the twins with my scheme. They weren't subtle enough, my dad would crack them in two seconds and then that would be it.

I quickly canceled the light shield, turned off the light in the bathroom and slipped back into my father's room with the book under my shirt. I returned it to his pack, careful to put it back exactly where I'd found it. Then I snuck back into my bed and wrapped the covers about me. I was still pondering how to lose the twins when I fell asleep.

**Next: Gavin plays a trick on Severus and starts an invesitgation of his own**


	9. Evelyn's Secret

**Evelyn's Secret**

I awoke early in the morning, my mind suddenly alert and rested, despite the early hour. Sometimes that happens to me, especially if I sleep on a problem. I knew suddenly how I could manage to see Evelyn Proctor with no one in my family the wiser. I would pull one of the oldest tricks in the book, I was going to get sick. Using my firecalling talent, I could simulate a fever and sunburn with glamour, Dad knew of the time I'd gotten sunburned with the dragons. We'd gone to the beach after lunch yesterday and I'd spent the rest of the afternoon until dinner in the water with my cousins, so coming down with a case of chills, fever, and bad sunburn would be believable. The hard part would be getting my father to agree to go about his business and leave me alone in the hotel room. When I was sick, Dad tended to hover, like a concerned mother hen. So I'd have to be sick, but not sick enough to make him stay here.

_You can do this, Gavin. It's the only way you're ever going to see Evelyn and get to the bottom of this whole thing. There's something weird going on here, and Dad knows it but won't admit it. _The whole situation with the Shining Path gave me the chills, and I didn't know the details the way my father probably did. Others might dismiss them as just another group of crazies, typical warmongering, pitchfork waving, Christian fanatics, like a hundred other groups in the Midwest. I knew better. I'd grown up under a fanatic like them and I knew the most dangerous creature was a fanatic who believed wholeheartedly in his cause, for then he was willing to kill and die for it, without remorse.

Those poppets and scrawled warnings were just the tip of the iceberg, the beginning of the madness. That was how it began, and if it were allowed to spread . . .we would have another Salem witch hunt on our hands, only ten times worse than the original, because of modern day technology. There was little doubt in my mind that this group had access to guns, most of the organized hate groups did, and if this one was as old as my father thought . . .they'd had plenty of time to gather recruits and money. I quivered, for I could hear Ferrous's voice in my head suddenly, "_Thou shall not suffer a witch to live . . .Vengeance is mine, an eye for an eye, saith the Lord. It's freaks like you they were talking about, boy. Devil touched hellspawn, one and all, and the world would be a better place if all of your kind were wiped off of it. Or turned from your evil nature, as I've been trying to do with you, you ungrateful wicked brat."_

He'd been referring to wizards like me when he'd said that, somehow he'd known about us, or thought he did. For over half my childhood I'd been forced to listen to his screwed up philosophy, how I should have been dead rather than allowed to live and pollute the world with my magic-tainted presence. But I had only now recalled that he'd also spouted the belief that I could be made to renounce the magic that was my birthright, to deny the evil in my soul, and so become a good person. Oh yes, I could recall many times now when he'd lectured me as he was beating the hell out of me. I was weak, allowing myself to be tempted into wrongdoing by my sinful nature, and that was why he punished me.

It was because of him that I'd suppressed my magic, trying to survive him the best way I knew, by becoming an ordinary child. If Ferrous had been smart, he'd have rewarded me for such behavior, but he'd hated me so much by then and I'd been his scapegoat for so long, that he continued to beat me even when I wasn't using magic, and undid all the progress he'd made with me. I'd soon realized that no matter how hard I tried to please him, there was no way I ever could, and so I stopped trying and rebelled against him and his teachings with everything I was.

I'd almost believed him, once upon a time, believed his lies and hate. He'd nearly trapped me in his web of hatred, but I'd escaped thanks to my defiance, my stubborn refusal to surrender to him, no matter how much he hurt me. That year I was eight, just a month before I'd run away, I'd done my best to cause as much trouble for the orphanage manager as I could. I couldn't use magic, but then I didn't need to, I could cause plenty of problems without it and I did. I caused fights between the other kids, encouraged the more rowdy orphans to have food riots, broke and damaged things, anything I could think of to make Ferrous's life harder. He'd named me a demon, very well then, I'd be what he called me, a terror of destruction.

I'd paid for it, with more beatings, and solitary confinement in the cellar with the rats and darkness, but in the end it was worth it. Because Ferrous had gone on a rampage and started walloping the others too, not just me, the way he had before. Oh, he'd switch another kid occasionally, or make them stand in the corner for an hour, or do chores, but nothing like what he dealt out to me. But once he'd lost it . . .And because of that he'd managed to get himself arrested and charged with child abuse. Of course, I hadn't known that until after I'd run away and joined the Ravens, it had made the front page of The Daily News. It had been a victory of sorts, though I'd have preferred the bastard dead and damned to hell for eternity.

I coughed slightly. Time to stop recalling Ferrous and start putting my scheme into action, I reminded myself. A part of me cringed though, for I really didn't like deceiving my dad that way. I'd been taught that lying was a sin and I hated lying to him especially, because I knew how much he hated kids that did that. But there was no other option. Nothing else would work half so well as the sick gambit, and this way I wouldn't have to worry about my cousins asking awkward questions either.

_Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive,_ the old saying by Sir Walter Scott flitted through my head then.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and summoned my gift to me. I raised my body temperature by several degrees, enough to fool my father into thinking I had a fever of 101 or so. Then I used glamour to make the skin on my arms, chest, and my back and legs appear blistered with a nasty sunburn. Luckily I was fair skinned to start with, so any redness looked twice as bad. I fastened the glamour tight against me, so it was almost like a second skin. The only way anybody would ever see through it was if they were actively looking for it, which I knew my father wouldn't be. It would hold for several hours.

Then I allowed myself to drift into a half-doze, waiting for my father and aunt to awaken.

* * * * * *

"Gavin, son. Time to get up," a hand was shaking my shoulder insistently.

I opened one eye and groaned pathetically. "Dad, I don't feel good."

My father stared down at me. "You do look a bit flushed." He felt my forehead. "You've got a fever. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

"Everywhere," I whined, squirming. "I think I've got sunburn . . ."

"Let me see," he gently pulled off the sheet, then hissed when he saw the state of my chest and arms. "Good God, boy! Didn't you put on sunblock like I told you?"

"I forgot." I winced as he gently turned me over. "Ouch!"

He shook his head at the sight of my back. "You're broiled like a lobster. No wonder you've got a fever. You've probably got a touch of sun poisoning. Let me get my potions kit."

I buried my face in the pillow, hiding my relief at how well my gambit had worked.

"What's the matter with Gavin, Uncle Sev?" Nick queried, coming back from the bathroom.

"Your cousin's sick from being sunburned." Dad answered. "He forgot to put on sunblock like I told him and now he's a mess. I don't think he can go with you to see the Witch's House and Gallows Hill presentation today."

"Aw, _Dad_!" I groaned on cue. "It's not that bad, honest."

"No arguing, Gavin. You're staying in bed, rest and fluids and some of my burn salve will cure you." Then he went through the connecting door to get his potions kit, which was very like a mini medical kit, for the most part.

"This sucks!" I growled, punching my pillow.

"Tough break, kid," said Nick sympathetically. He eyed me thoughtfully. "But who'd ever think a firecaller would get sunburn?"

"Aw, shut it, Nick!" I ordered crossly. "The sun's not the same thing as a fire, and I can't help it if I'm so damned fair-skinned."

"Must be that Irish blood in you."

"Must be," I agreed sulkily, though the truth was I had no idea what nationality my ancestors had been.

Dad returned with his kit and told Nick to go down to breakfast with his mom and Drew. "I'll be along as soon as I've made Gavin comfortable."

Nick departed with a last wave, leaving me alone with my father.

"All right, first you need a fever reducer," Dad said, handing me a cup with the blue potion in it.

I swallowed it obediently, knowing it wouldn't do me any harm, even though I didn't really have a fever.

Then he uncapped the jar of burn salve. "Now, let's get this on you, son. It'll make you feel ten times better." He gently began to apply the salve to my arms and chest.

I winced, pretending it hurt a bit.

"There! How's that?"

"Better."

"Good. Turn over."

He repeated the same process. I squirmed and whimpered, for it made sense that my back and legs were worse than the front.

"Hold still, please!" he ordered.

"Ow! It hurts!" I yelped.

"I know, but if you'd quit wriggling, I'll be done quicker. Now relax." He continued rubbing the salve on me, all down my back, my legs, he even put some on my bottom. I silently thanked God I'd thought to make that part red as well, though not as bad as the rest of me.

"Dad! I don't need any there," I protested sharply.

"You do. You're red, now be still," he snapped as I flinched and wriggled, more from embarrassment than anything else. "Merlin, child, it's not like I'm taking a strap to you. There!" He finished and gently replaced my boxers and wiped his hands off. "Do you feel better now?"

"Umm . . .yeah," I replied. The salve made my skin feel all tingly and kind of cold.

He summoned a glass of ice water with a snap of his fingers. "I want you to drink this whole glass and then try and go to sleep. I'll be back after breakfast to check on you. Would you like me to bring you some tea and toast?"

"Yes, please." I said, giving him my most pathetic look. I sipped the water slowly. "Thanks, Dad." _Thanks for believing your no-good lying son, _my conscience hissed, making me squirm guiltily.

"You're welcome, son. Now get some rest." He left the room and I heaved a sigh of relief as the door shut.

Now all I had to do was convince him to leave me here alone while he went out to talk to the rest of his operatives and then I could go and find old lady Proctor and see if she wouldn't tell me stories about the Brotherhood.

* * * * * *

An hour later I was dressed and had snapped a glamour over myself that made me look like a blond-haired version of Harry Potter, or at least how I imagined Harry must have looked as a kid, complete with glasses. It had taken a bit of convincing, but Dad agreed to leave me to rest for the morning, he'd be finished with his work around two o'clock and be back to see how I was then.

I wished I could figure out when he'd be speaking with Evelyn, so I would know if it was safe to go there, but I didn't dare ask him any pointed questions. I'd just have to take my chances. As an additional insurance, I took three pillows and stuffed them beneath my blanket and then cast yet another illusion over them, this one of me sleeping. Fireflash had taught me that it was easier to cast a glamour on something than weave it entirely from air. The spell holds better.

I suppressed another wince of shame for my actions. Certainly my dragon mentor wouldn't like what I was doing with the knowledge he'd given me. I silently apologized to him in my head. Then I did the same to my dad, who'd be ready to spit nails if he knew what I was up to. I also wove a suggestion charm over the glamour, so that if anyone happened to approach the "sleeping" me, they would decide to leave me be and not try and wake me.

Once I was satisfied I'd covered my tracks thoroughly I slipped out of the room, pocketing the key card, and set out to find Evelyn's house. Luckily I had the address memorized, Dad had written it and the other four down on the back of that paper with the names. I stopped at the front desk and asked if I could call a cab from here.

The woman at the front desk said yes, and dialed one for me. In five minutes I had a cab pulling up to the front of the hotel. I hopped in and the driver asked, "Where to, kid?"

"244 Astor Way, my grandma's house," I said confidently.

"You got it." We pulled away from the hotel and I crossed my fingers. So far, so good.

It cost me ten bucks to get to Evelyn's house, which was a small cottage off the main street of Salem. I thanked the driver, tipped him, then asked for a number so I could call him when I needed a ride back to the hotel. He handed me a business card.

I took it then started up the small walk, which was bordered by several sweetly flowering snowball bushes. I knew a lot more about plants than I ever did before getting adopted because of my Grandpa Leo, who enjoyed sharing his vast knowledge of plants with anyone willing to listen. I was.

I scanned the area for any magical auras, specifically my dad's. Nothing. I heaved an immense sigh of relief. I had gotten here before him, thank Merlin's staff. I glanced around the yard curiously, spotting two cats, a gray striped and an orange, sunning themselves on the porch. Another, white with black spots, was cautiously stalking something in the grass.

I paused just before I climbed the steps. The orange cat twitched her whiskers at me. _What's this? Yet another visitor for Evelyn in one morning?_

I started, then knelt swiftly and hissed in cat-speak, "What do you mean? Someone else has been here besides me?"

The orange feline blinked lazily up at me. _Yes. But he couldn't talk to us properly the way you can, kit. But he radiated a similar aura of magic._

"You know about magic then?"

_Know about it? Of course, silly human! D'you think we're stupid, simply because we don't have hands or vocalize like you cousins of apes? We cats have always known of magic, it is Bast's gift to us, young kit. All cats, no matter how domesticated, carry a piece of magic in us, to see the Unseen and comprehend the Eternal. _

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know that," I apologized swiftly, not wanting to make the cat angry. I really should've spent more time talking to Comfrey, Arista's cat, then I'd not have sounded like an idiot. "I didn't mean to offend you, uh, what's your name?"

The orange cat yawned, displaying gleaming white fangs and a raspy tongue. _My mother called me Iris, but Evelyn calls me Silk, because of my extraordinarily soft fur._ She promptly rubbed her head against my hand.

I stroked her gently and praised her beautiful coat. Cats love that. She purred happily.

"Who's your friend?" I jerked my head at the sleeping gray tabby.

_That's Lily. She was an orphan kitten and can't remember the name her mother gave her. _

"Oh," I said, sympathizing with her totally. Then I reminded myself of the real reason I'd come here. "D'you prefer Silk or Iris?"

She flipped her tail. _You may call me Silk if you wish. _

"Okay. Silk, what did this other, uh, wizard look like? Was he maybe wearing black? Shirt, pants, boots? And did he have black hair with a white streak in it?"

The cat considered. _Yes, from the glimpse I got of him, he was taller than you and his hair was black with a white stripe in it. Rather dashing. More of you humans should wear your hair that way. And he moved a bit stiffly, like he'd been injured once._

So my father had been here, probably talking with Evelyn about the incidents. That was both good and not good. Good because I wouldn't need to worry about him returning here and maybe catching me with the old woman, but not good because now I'd have to alter my story slightly. Originally, I'd just planned on being a curious child who'd heard rumors of witchcraft and wanting to ask Evelyn if she knew anything about it. That way she wouldn't think to mention anything about our talk to my dad. Now though, I'd decided to be a child who'd been the victim of one of those mysterious notes, since she'd be more likely to open up to a kid who'd been victimized like she was and who was also a wizard. I knew that those magicians and wizards connected with the DHI were sworn to help those in trouble, so Evelyn wouldn't refuse to tell me what I needed to know, especially if she'd been put on alert by my father.

So then, I'd be Tristan Meese, don't ask me where I came up with that name, recent victim of a hateful warning note left by who knows? I'd be a Muggleborn, unable to discuss the truth of the note with my parents, since they just thought it a nasty prank, and not the serious threat I feared it was. I'd tell her that I'd heard the same thing had happened to her-that would be common gossip in a town like Salem. I could play the scared insecure child very well, I'd done it countless times on the streets of Manhattan, to get close enough to a mark to pick their pocket.

There were advantages to looking younger than I really was, and even with the glamour, I was still small and slender. That was the one disadvantage to my illusion-casting. I could alter my appearance, but not my size. Good thing that didn't matter here.

As I rose to my feet, Lily woke up and padded over to me. _Hello_, she meowed softly, then she jumped into my arms. _Could you open the door for me, please? I want to go inside. It's time for lunch._

"Sure. Give me a sec, okay?" I purred back at her.

Her green eyes widened. _Oh, a cat speaker! I haven't talked with one of you in years. My name is Lily, sir. Pleased to meet you._

I rubbed my hand over her fur. "Pleased to meet you too. I'm Tristan." Animals were delighted when I spoke with them. Probably because it was so frustrating to have to deal with a bunch of humans who couldn't understand anything they said. It must be like living in a country of the deaf and dumb.

Then I pushed the doorbell.

The door opened and I saw a rather plump elderly woman with her hair in an bun, it was a soft silvery color. She had bright green eyes and was wearing a pink shirt with kittens on it and cream colored slacks with sneakers. She looked very alert and spry for her age.

"Yes? Can I help you, child?"

I nodded. "Uh, are you Evelyn Proctor, ma'am?"

"I am. And that's my Lily you've got there. Isn't she a sweetie?"

"Yeah," I gave her a tentative grin. "I like cats. She wanted to come inside. Says she's hungry."

"Yes, it's nearly lunch time for her." Evelyn opened the door. "Come in, lad."

I stepped inside and Lily jumped out of my arms and wound herself about Evelyn's ankles, meowing.

She knelt to pet the cat. "Yes, yes, I know you want your lunch, you impatient thing." She straightened. "There's nothing more demanding than a cat that wants to be fed. Now what's your name, young man?"

"Tristan Meese." Then I whispered softly, "I can understand animals, ma'am. All kinds. They told me to come to you."

"Indeed." She peered sharply at me. "Have you found yourself a tutor then?"

"Yes, just last week. My parents, they uh, don't know what we're really studying. They don't have magic and they'd never understand. But you do, right?"

Evelyn nodded, going into her kitchen to open up a can of cat food for Lily. "My sister Mina was a magician, so I know all about the magical world. I've known since I was a little girl, and even though I'm not a true witch, I have some minor talents. Namely the ability to sense danger or good fortune."

She waved a hand at her kitchen table. "Please, have a seat, Tristan. Are you thirsty? I have lemonade and soda or iced tea if you prefer."

"Lemonade, please."

She poured two glasses then came to sit down next to me. "Now then, I presume you're here for a reason, not just to say hello. You can call me Evelyn, by the way. Only my students ever called me ma'am, and then only if they were in trouble." Her eyes twinkled.

"You were a teacher?"

"Yes. I taught third grade for thirty years. Right here in Salem Elementary, as a matter of fact. But I've been retired now for almost ten years."

_You and my dad must have a lot in common then,_ I thought, but did not say aloud. "Uh, well, you see I heard. . . that some crazy had, uh, left a nasty note and . . .and . . .stuff in your yard . . .threatening you for being a witch."

Evelyn nodded soberly. "Yes, that's so. They tied up poor Lily too, but thank God they didn't hurt her. Do you know something else about it?"

"Like who did it?" I asked quickly. "No. But I, well, I got a note too. I found it when I went to get the mail yesterday. It was attached to some kind of voodoo doll made of rags and sticks with pins in it. The note said that I was the devil's own child and unless I repented and rejected my magic they would . . .would come for me and . . .and show me the path of righteousness with fire and the sword." I allowed a slight tremor to come over me. "I didn't show the note to my parents, they'd think it was just a wicked prank by kids, they'd never take it seriously. But it _is_ serious, isn't it? These people, they really mean what they say, don't they?"

Evelyn sighed. "Yes, lad, they do. Have you told your teacher about this note?"

"No. He's away, it was a family emergency, his mother's real sick," I embroidered my story swiftly, with the skill learned from, ironically, my former Raven brother Slick. Slick, who had later betrayed me to the Shifter, could lie so good it would fool Lucifer himself. "When I heard about what they'd done to you, I figured I could talk to you about it. Who are these people and why do they want to hurt me? I'm just a kid, I can barely do anything with my magic. What did I ever do to them?"

"They would say you were born, Tristan," Evelyn said sadly. "For those born with the gift of magic are abominations in their eyes and unworthy of life. They subscribe to the old belief _Thou shall not suffer a witch to live, Exodus 22:13_," she quoted.

"But why? What did a wizard do to them?"

"Nothing. It isn't anything you did, or that someone else did. They fear those with magic, and what a person fears, he hates, and what he hates he tries to destroy. It's an old story, child, one as old as time. I've seen it repeated over and over. With Hitler and the Jews during World War II, and again with the Vietnamese and the Americans in Vietnam. Even now, with this new trouble in the Middle East. Prejudice and fear spawns war. History repeats itself, I'm afraid. Over two hundred years ago Salem suffered the witch hunts and hysteria brought on by superstition and blind hatred. It begins again, I fear."

"But who's doing this?" I cried. "And why can't we fight them? Get some Hunters or the Director to-to nail their ass or something." Then I flushed. "Sorry, ma'am. I shouldn't talk like that in front of you."

To my surprise she chuckled. "That's quite all right, lad. My husband Sammy, God rest his soul, had quite the salty tongue, being a Navy man himself. As for your idea that we should fight them, rest assured that we are doing all we can to stop them this time. Director Snape visited me this morning to assure me that he will be doing all he can to ensure my safety and the safety of the other families that were targeted. I can ask him to include you on his list."

I gasped. "You-you actually _met_ the Director?"

"I did. He had coffee and apple turnovers with me, I found him a most interesting man. Very direct and reassuring, just what we need these days. I think appointing Mr. Snape as Director was one of the best decisions the AMA ever made. He knows when to wait and when to act, and when he acts, he gets things done. None of this pussyfooting around, promising things to people and then not delivering. What Severus Snape promises, he does. I'm very pleased with him."

I smiled inwardly. It was too bad I couldn't ever tell my dad what Evelyn said about him. But she still hadn't told me what I wanted to know. "Evelyn, do these people have a name? Are they like a terrorist group?"

"Well, yes, I suppose you could say that. They are called the Brotherhood of the Shining Path, and they're a very old anti-witch organization, Tristan. They date back to the trials, some of their founding members were related to Samuel Parris, John Hawthorne, John Putnam, and the Mathers, who actively persecuted witches. They believe quite firmly in that Bible verse I quoted before, and they have sworn never to rest until every last witch or wizard is wiped off the face of the earth. They believe it is a holy mission, that they are called to do God's work, and rid the world of magic, for magic is a tool of the devil."

"But that's-that's crazy! To hate someone just because we're different!"

"I know. But to them, your difference damns your immortal soul."

"How do you know all this?"

She hesitated a moment before replying. "As I told you before, my sister Mina was a magician. What I didn't tell you is that I am a direct descendant of Nathanial Hawthorne, who was the author of _The Scarlet Letter_. And also a descendant of Magistrate John Hathorne, who condemned so many innocent women to death on hearsay. Before I married Sammy Proctor, I was Evelyn Hawthorne, as was my sister Mina, and my baby brother James. My great grandfather Nathanial was ashamed of his grandfather's participation in the trials, but most of his family was not. They thought John Hathorne right to persecute witches. So, through the years, they remained active members of the Brotherhood, at least the men did. Women were not allowed to participate."

I gaped at her. "But your sister Mina . . ."

"Had to hide what she was from nearly everyone in our family, save for me and our mother. Had it ever been known that the Hawthornes produced a witch . . .oh, the irony of it! My family would have been cast out of the Brotherhood for sure and subject to a cleansing as well." Her mouth tightened. "They would've examined all of us for any taint of witchcraft and Mina would've been killed, most likely. My father was not a very active participant, he attended meetings infrequently and never preached the doctrine to us children. But my brother Jim, he was a different story. Poor Jimmy! He was a skinny kid, always sickly, and never popular in school. But in the Brotherhood, he was somebody and he loved the power he had there. He became a rabid follower and rose high in the ranks."

"Is he still there?"

"No, he died of a heart attack ten years ago. But his son Matthew follows in his father's footsteps and is a member of the Brotherhood also. It is to my sorrow that I have to claim any of them as kin, especially after knowing what they are capable of. It's ironic, really, that Mina, whom they claimed was evil through and through for practicing magic, never harmed a soul in her life, and in fact helped many, while they, who are supposed to be the good and righteous, walking in the Light, have killed and brought misery to people far more than they've helped."

She looked suddenly worn and frail and I stared at her in concern. "Evelyn? Are you okay?"

She blinked. "Yes, I'm fine, child. Don't fret. I'm tired, is all, of being caught between worlds. I chose to help the wizarding world long ago, but the burden is very great, and what I've just told you is a secret known only to a few."

"Like the Director?" I guessed.

"Oh no, I could never tell him that! I would ruin my reputation as a respected informant if he ever knew . . .no, a few of my old friends know and Mina's husband Charles, who is a wizard, but no one else. It's not something I'm proud of. I was glad to change my name to Proctor when I married, because Hawthorne was too well known around here. I wanted people to forget, and they have, mostly . . .until recently."

I was alarmed at her revelation, though at the same time I wished I could tell her that my dad would never condemn her for the things her family had done, past or present. He was a firm believer in choosing your own destiny and judging people on their own merit and actions. I felt sorry for her, alone with her sister gone and what remained of her family was scum of the earth.

"Do you . . ." I paused and drank some lemonade, it was very good, homemade stuff not from Countrytime. " . . .do you think your nephew might have something to do with the notes?"

"I don't know, Tristan. He may have, last I heard he was high in the ranks of the Brotherhood. I would hope not, but it is possible. We were never close, he wasn't permitted to see me much growing up, his father didn't want me influencing him, the old bigot. I used to send him presents for Christmas and his birthday when he was a boy, but I stopped when he was sixteen and he'd sent the last one back."

I raised both eyebrows at that. How stupid could you get, to send back a present someone had gotten you? It was rude and cruel. "But why would he target you?"

"Perhaps because he's embarrassed by me, an old lady who lives alone with only her cats for company. Or perhaps the Brotherhood learned about Mina and how I helped hide her all those years ago." She spread her hands ruefully. "Who knows? The Brotherhood does what it does for its own reasons and they aren't ones I can fathom, child. All I can do is hope that they're stopped before they start killing, the way they did back during 1963."

"1963? Wasn't that the year Kennedy was assassinated?"

"Yes, and Martin Luther King Jr. also. You know your history then." She nodded approvingly at me. "The country was in a state of shock, and it was then that the Brotherhood chose to start their cleansing campaign again. Ten families were slaughtered before the Hunters managed to protect them and the Brotherhood went back underground. But this was how it started last time, with threats and then when that didn't work, the Brotherhood started attacking supposed witches and their families, or anyone they felt was a sympathizer."

"But the Director knows, he won't let that happen again."

"We can hope so. But he's only one man, Tristan, and even he can't be everywhere. It's best to be prepared. Show your teacher that note when he returns and tell him to cast wards over your house and your family. And keep a suitcase packed just in case you have to leave in a hurry. Be careful, son. I can sense a great danger coming."

"When?"

"I don't know. But soon. The Headquarters of the Brotherhood is here in Salem. On Rochester Street, in the old mansion where Judge Hawthorne used to host banquets. My family still owns it and my nephew has given them permission to use it. I believe they're recruiting again, not all their members are from families around here. They like to recruit young, believing that a child's mind is more receptive to their doctrine than an adult's mostly. Like the Hitler Youth back in Germany. But that's all I know. I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, Tristan."

I smiled at her. "Actually, you were a lot of help, Evelyn. Now I know what we're up against," I said sincerely. And it scared me to death. I left soon afterwards, and told her to be careful too. Her and her cats.

"I will. Don't worry, Director Snape put wards around my house and property himself, so no one who intends to hurt me can get by. They'll be turned away if they try, thrown across the street if they try more than once," she said with a secret smile.

I waved once then hurried to where the cab was waiting. I made it back to the hotel just before noon, slipped back in my room, canceled the illusion spell over my pillows, got back in my pajamas and crawled into bed. I just remembered to recast the sunburn glamour over myself again before I fell asleep.

**Next: The twins and Gavin go exploring Salem**


	10. The Face At the Window

**The Face At The Window**

Dad returned a little earlier than two o'clock to check on me, and found me sleeping. He woke me up to ask me how I was feeling, I said I felt better than this morning. He felt my forehead again, my fever was gone. He brought me more ice water to drink, as well as some orange juice. "You need to drink plenty of liquids, or else you're going to become dehydrated."

I sipped at the juice, my stomach was rumbling loudly. "I'm hungry."

"I noticed. I'll call room service and have them send you up some lunch." He handed me the room service menu. I quickly scanned it, then ordered a fish sandwich and fries, since the fish was great here. Dad called down to the desk and placed the order.

"While we're waiting for that, I'll put some more salve on you," he said, summoning the jar from his kit.

I bit my lip, but didn't bother protesting, and submitted to the indignity of having the stuff rubbed all over me once again. I considered it the price I paid for being so deceitful. And it wasn't going to end there, I thought with another wince. For now I knew where the Brotherhood headquarters were, I wanted to take a look at them. And maybe put the fear of God into _them_, for a change.

Dad sat with me while I ate, and I asked him how he was doing with his new case. "That's difficult to say, it's early days yet. But I did manage to reassure all the families who had received threats and put some of my Hunters on watch detail."

"That's good. Did you talk to the cat lady?"

"Her name's Evelyn Proctor, and yes I did. She was very helpful, she's lived in Salem her whole life and knows just about everything there is to know about it and the families who live here."

I was dying to ask if he knew about the headquarters of the Shining Path, but I didn't dare. Instead I asked another question that had been plaguing me ever since I'd spoken with Evelyn. "Dad, is there a spell that could, uh, stop a bullet?"

He looked startled. "Yes, but it's not one that's very well known, except to Hunters. Why?"

"Just wondering. Those Brotherhood scum, what if they tried to shoot you?"

"I know the spell, Gavin, and if I were even thinking of confronting one, I'd cast it first."

I sighed in relief. Then I thought of something else. "I wonder if my fire shield could stop a bullet?"

Severus considered. "It might, depending on how hot you made it. Most bullets are made of plastic, not metal these days, and plastic will melt in fire. Not that you have to worry about dodging bullets, scamp." He shot me an appraising look. "This is a rather odd conversation. What's going on in that head of yours, boy?"

I shrugged. "I got to thinking, is all, about those creeps hurting people, and their sort likes to do it with guns, probably."

"Yes, and we wizards aren't immune to bullets," Dad acknowledged. "But remember, I'm not here to confront any of the Shining Path just yet. All I'm doing is gathering information. So you can quit worrying, all right?" He reached out and rumpled my hair.

I smiled and wished like hell I didn't have to lie like this. If he ever found out . . .well, that hand wouldn't be ruffling my hair, oh no. It'd be shoving soap in my mouth at the very least, for Dad considered lying as bad as swearing and used the same punishment for it. I'd have to be very careful, for interfering in his investigation was serious business, and I'd be grounded for life if he caught me.

I finished my sandwich and fries, my deception had done little to blunt my appetite, at least. Tomorrow, I resolved, I would be healed from my sunburn and able to accompany Aunt Teri and the twins about the town again. I planned to study the tour map we had, so I knew where the street was with the headquarters on it, then somehow I'd find a way to get over there.

* * * * * *

The next morning, I was fully recovered from my sunburn, having removed the glamour over myself. Although Dad insisted on applying a thin coating of burn salve anyway, over my protests, which he ignored. "Dad, I'm fine! I don't need it." I gestured at myself. "See? I'm healed up, no red anywhere."

"Not on the surface, no," he agreed, uncapping the jar. "But that was a terrible sunburn and it probably penetrated down several layers of skin. Now quit arguing and just let me do this, Gavin Snape! It won't hurt you and it can only help moisturize your skin."

I rolled my eyes, then turned over and let him do what he wanted, grumbling rebelliously. My act fooled him, thank God. Maybe I should consider a career as an actor, I thought guiltily. Then I jumped when he gave me a swat on the bottom. "Quit that whining," he ordered, and I stopped grumbling.

Once that was finished, I got dressed and then we headed out to see some more of Salem.

I managed to steer my relatives in the direction of the headquarters, since it was close to another rather famous Salem landmark, an old house that was rumored to be haunted. The twins promptly dared me to go up and knock on the door.

"C'mon, Director's son! Let's see how brave you really are."

"You really think this place is haunted?" I said skeptically.

"Who knows? I dare you to ring the bell and then wait to see what happens," Nick suggested.

"Nothing," I said dismissively.

"We'll see, won't we?" Drew said, his eyes glittering.

I shrugged and walked up the crumbling stone steps and pressed the old bell. It whined annoyingly, like a bee that had forgotten how to buzz. The only thing that was likely to happen is part of the house collapsing from the bell's echo, I snorted.

I waited for about a minute, then turned to come down the stairs. "See? Nothing, like I told you," I said. The twins looked disappointed. I'm sure they'd wanted some horrible dead thing to pop out of the house and come after me. Then I lowered my voice and hissed, "Maybe the ghost or whatever only comes out at night. . ."

Nick's eyes widened at my daring. "Seriously? You want to sneak out and come back here?"

I nodded slowly, for it would be yet another chance for me to study the house where the Brotherhood was holed up.

Drew looked uneasy, he was the good twin, well, sometimes. He didn't get into half the trouble his brother did. "If we're caught . . .Mom and Uncle Sev will kick our asses."

"How're they gonna know, you jackass?" Nick sneered. "They'll be asleep, duh!" He rubbed his hands eagerly. "It's perfect! The haunted house at midnight. Then we'll really see who's got guts in this family." He gave his twin a challenging stare. "You up for it, or are you nothing but a whiny girl, Drewie?"

Drew scowled, but he couldn't refuse his twin's dare. "Fine, but if we're caught, _you're_ gonna make sure you take most of the blame, the two of you."

"How's that fair?" I objected. "An accessory is as guilty as the main suspect."

"Don't quote Hunter protocols at me, Gav!" my cousin growled. "This is stupid, you know."

"If it's stupid then why are you going along with it?" Nick demanded.

Drew scraped the blacktop with his sneaker. "Damned if I know," was all he said.

"Fine," I agreed swiftly. "If something happens, I'll say it was my idea and Nick's. Okay?" Which it was. I began having second thoughts as we walked back to where Aunt Teri waited. Maybe I should just tell them to forget it. It was one thing to get myself in trouble, another to include my cousins. Then again, Nick probably would have thought of this sooner or later. He was a born thrill seeker.

I then told them that this wasn't the only house in Salem that was supposed to be haunted. "Where's another one?" they demanded eagerly.

"This way," I beckoned them down a connecting street. "It's an old mansion, dates back to the witch trials or something. It's on Rochester Street."

We found it, no problem. It was a large brick building, three stories or so, with a porch entrance that was as big as my living room. It crouched like a hungry beast behind wrought iron gates. I peered at it, trying to see if I could sense anything odd about it, but all I could pick up was a vague sort of uneasiness. There was a watchfulness about the place, as if it was waiting for something to happen.

From outside the gates, the place looked deserted. I tried the gate, but it was locked. "Damn! I wish we could open the gate." I rattled the bars in frustration."

"We can," said Drew, and pointed his finger and whispered an unlocking charm. "Alohomora!"

There was a click and then the gates swung open.

Smirking, we slipped onto the grass and made our way across the property to take a closer look at the house. Up close we could see that the blue paint was peeling along the colonial style shutters and some of the brickwork was crumbling. But the marble columns fronting the porch were as solid as ever, and so were the roof shingles.

"Who was supposed to've died here?" Nick asked.

"Lots of people," I answered shortly, craning my neck upwards to see the upper stories.

Suddenly, I caught a flicker of movement at one of the second story windows. I bit my lip and stared hard, trying to determine if it was a trick of the light. But no, I saw the white drape move and for one instant a face peered out of the window.

I caught my breath.

"What is it, Gav?" Drew demanded, for I'd gone very pale.

"Didja see a ghost or what?" asked Nick, scanning the house eagerly.

"No. It was nothing . . ." I managed to say after a moment.

"C'mon, Gav. You can tell us, we won't say anything," Nick coaxed. "What did you see? Was it a real ghost?"

I shook my head, irritated with his questions. "No! It was just a trick of the light," I snapped, but I kept my gaze trained on the window for a moment more. Perhaps if I waited, she might return to the window. But after a few minutes I gave up and left, walking out of the yard.

I didn't speak much on the way back to the hotel. My cousins probably thought it was because I'd gotten scared and didn't want to admit it. But that wasn't it at all. I was quiet because I was still trying to come to grips with what I'd seen, or thought I'd seen at the Shining Path headquarters.

For the face at the window had been Monkey's.

Impossible as it seemed, I'd know her eyes and features anywhere. It made no sense for her to be here, in Massachusetts, much less inside _that_ house. But I knew what I saw. I gnawed my lower lip to ribbons and knew I had to come back there and see if I'd seen what I thought I had.

After that I didn't know what I'd do.

**I know, this one's really short, but don't worry, i wrote the next one! Stay awake and I'll post it!**


	11. In the Dark of the Night

**In the Dark of the Night**

I remained quiet for most of the rest of the evening, though the twins chattered practically nonstop to my dad, asking questions about ghosts, since he'd known quite a few of them when he'd lived and taught at Hogwarts. I knew that one of his students, Mel Seton was a ghostwalker, meaning she could become a ghost and command them at will. Mel was also Arista and Trish's best friend, though they hardly saw her now that she was attached to the Aurors, her job kept her too busy for any but the most casual correspondence. She did, however, owl Arista two months ago and tell her that she too was expecting, and the baby was a little girl. She also said that she wanted to know if Arista and Drake were willing to be godparents, and my sister had agreed. No surprise there. Trish and Flick were going to stand as godparents for baby Sev.

I was so concerned over what I had seen at the house on Rochester Street that I barely picked at my food. "Are you feeling okay, Gavin?" inquired Aunt Teri.

"I'm fine. I'm just not very hungry is all."

That admission brought Dad down on me like a shot. "What's wrong, Gavin? You normally eat like a horse." He rose and came around the table in the dining area of the hotel (we'd decided to eat there tonight) and felt my forehead. "No fever. Is it your stomach?"

I shook my head rapidly, even though my stomach was bothering me plenty. It was just nerves. Over what I'd seen and the pressure of keeping so many secrets. But the last thing I wanted was for him to dose me with the Anti-Nausea Potion. I know that most people don't mind the taste, but I hate peppermint and the potion tastes like peppermint ice cream. "No. I'm just not really hungry," I muttered to my plate, which was still three-quarters full of lobster newberg and rice.

I felt my father's hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Gavin, are you sure you're all right? Because if you're sick, you can tell me, you don't need to hide it. There's no need to play hero with me."

I wanted to die right there. "Dad, I'm fine!" I hissed, my face going red. God, but the twins would think I was some kind of baby, the way he fussed over me. I quickly picked up my fork and took a bite of my food. It was very good, but I had to force myself to swallow it. "Please, just sit down. People are staring."

They weren't, but I felt as if they were. Dad went back and finished his dinner, and I managed a couple more forkfuls of mine before I asked the waitress to wrap it for me. I had this thing about wasting food, I always took leftovers home if I ate out and couldn't finish what they gave me. Guess it came from being a street kid and never knowing when your next meal was going to be.

Over the pitcher of Coke, Drew caught my eye and gave me a sympathetic look, jerking his head at my dad. _Grown-ups! They sure know how to embarrass a kid in two seconds flat_ was what the look meant. I managed a small smile in return.

On the way back to the hotel I'd carefully gone over what I'd seen in my head. My first thought was that I'd been mistaken, and had seen a girl that looked like Monkey. But I'd dismissed that notion since I knew Monkey's features and the face had matched hers exactly. So I was not seeing things.

But if it were so, why on God's green earth was she here, and with those people? I recalled the last letter I'd sent and how it had gone unanswered. Was this why? It didn't make sense. Then I had a thought that turned me cold. What if she was here as a prisoner, and not of her own free will? If that were the case, I needed to help get her out of there. I bit my lip hard.

Tonight. I would find out tonight just what was going on, I promised myself. A part of my mind hissed that what I was planning was both foolhardy and dangerous. The Brotherhood wouldn't take kindly to a kid prowling around their property in the dead of night. I should just come clean to my father and let him investigate the Monkey mystery, he was trained for this kind of thing.

The only thing I knew about infiltrating anything was from listening to him and Colin discuss old cases and stories about when Dad was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Well, that and from watching James Bond movies and reading mysteries.

The smart thing to do would be to just tell my father and let him handle it. He'd be angry with me, but nothing like he would be if he ever found out this latest plan of mine.

I teetered back and forth over my dilemma. Tell or not tell? What if I was wrong, and it wasn't really Monkey? Then I'd have spilled my guts for nothing and gotten in trouble for it like a dumbass. I was still pondering over it, so much that my stomach hurt, when we returned to the room.

The twins wanted to rent a movie and were arguing over it when I felt Dad lay a hand on my arm. "Gavin, is there something you'd like to tell me?"

I panicked then. _Oh God, does he know? How can he? No, of course not!_ "About what?"

"You look like something's on your mind."

"No," I said quickly. "It's . . .nothing's wrong." My stomach clenched in terror. Unconsciously I rubbed it.

His falcon-sharp eyes caught that. "Gavin! Your stomach is bothering you, isn't it?" He frowned down at me sternly. "I want the truth now."

I ducked my head. If I looked up at him now, I'd tell him everything. "A little," I said quietly.

"Thought so. When did this start?"

I answered just before dinner, which was the truth. My stomach had been jittery ever since I'd seen Monkey's face in the window.

He led me into the bedroom I shared with the twins and sat me down on the bed. "I think you ought to go to bed early, son. Apparently you aren't fully recovered from your sun poisoning."

"I am so!" I argued.

"I beg to differ. Healthy boys eat dinner and don't complain of their stomachs hurting. Now, what kind of pain are you having? Nausea? Cramps?" He then proceeded to question me about my digestive tract just as if he was a damn doctor, which he sort of was, since he was a medic. His questions made me squirm in embarrassment, but I answered them.

"Sounds like a mild case of gas and an upset stomach. I'll give you a tablespoon of Anti-Nausea Potion, that should calm it down. Then you can have some tea and go to bed."

"No!" I cried angrily. "I don't need to take any medicine, damn it."

He shot me a look that should've flattened me. "Excuse me? Watch that tone, mister. You'll take it and no arguments. Now quit acting like a baby." He summoned the blasted potion and poured it out on a spoon. "Open."

I clamped my jaw shut.

His eyes flashed. "Mr. Snape, you have two seconds to open your mouth and take this like a normal person, or I swear I'll open your mouth for you and pour it down your throat like I'd do for a dog. One."

I took the damn stuff. I knew better than to test him, no matter how much I loathed the potion. I coughed, grimacing at the awful peppermint taste. "Water. Please."

Dad handed me a glass of water. "Honestly, son, you act like I'm trying to poison you," he reproved softly. "I'm only trying to make you feel better."

"I hate that damn potion, Dad!"

"But your stomach feels better now," he pointed out.

"Yeah," I admitted sulkily.

"Well then. Get ready for bed."

I obeyed, figuring the sooner I did what he wanted, the sooner he'd be out of my hair. I really regretted ever thinking up the idea that being sick was a perfect way to sneak around unnoticed. It was more of a pain in the ass than it was worth, I thought, putting on my pajamas and getting into bed.

Dad came back and brought me some mint tea, told me to sip it slowly and then go to sleep. "Feel better, son," he said, and patted my shoulder. "Good night." Then he was gone.

I drank my tea, mostly because now I was hungry and needed something to quiet my stomach. I found a package of cookies in my knapsack and ate them quickly. In spite of the potion, I still felt slightly ill, though I knew it wasn't from anything save guilt. At the rate I was going, the next thing you know I'd be going to church for confession, same as any other guilt-ridden Catholic. Then I settled down in bed and tried to get some sleep, because I knew when midnight came I'd be back out wandering Salem's streets, trying to solve the mystery behind the Brotherhood.

* * * * * *

"Psst! Gav, it's me. Wake up!"

I woke to feel Drew shaking my shoulder. I blinked, my eyes slowly adjusting to the softly glowing ball of light on his index finger. I sat up and whispered, "What time is it?"

"Eleven thirty, I think. I looked at Mom's alarm clock before I came back in here. They're both sleeping like the dead."

I winced at his choice of words. Then I quickly summoned my clothes to me and dressed. "Where's Nick?"

"Keeping a look out in the other room." Drew looked slightly uncomfortable, he hadn't really wanted to do this crazy thing in the first place.

I felt my conscience twinge uncomfortably. I didn't like dragging people after me into trouble. Even though I knew it'd been mostly Nick's idea, I still felt guilty. I'd picked up my sneakers and tucked them under my arm, then motioned for Drew to take off his shoes too. In socks we'd make less noise. Make that the twins would make less noise, I corrected inwardly. I knew how to move silently from my days as a thief and I made less noise than a ghost.

Once Drew had copied me, I stood and passed my hand swiftly over both of our beds. His eyes widened as the glamour appeared of all of us sleeping soundly in our beds. Then I put a finger to my lips and beckoned him out of the room.

Nick met us just inside the room where our parents slept. For a moment I debated trying to cast a sleep charm over them, but at the last minute my heart failed me. I still wasn't comfortable casting spells on people I knew, especially my father. I felt that he would regard it as a betrayal.

I did, however, cast a silencing charm on the door, so when we opened it, it wouldn't make noise. Then we exited the room quickly and quietly. It wasn't till we were almost to the lobby that I stopped and put on my sneakers.

Then Drew turned to me and asked, "Where the blazes did you learn to cast a glamour like that, Gavin? It nearly fooled me and I knew it wasn't real."

"Fireflash taught me. I can cast glamours easily, it's tied to my ability as a firecaller," I explained softly. "I can manipulate light and heat as well as fire. I figured it'd be a good idea to cast glamours over our beds, just in case my dad wakes up in the middle of the night. He used to patrol the halls at night back when he taught at Hogwarts and sometimes he still wakes up early in the morning."

"Good thinking," Nick praised. "Come on, let's get moving to the haunted house."

Once we'd reached the first haunted house, I double dared them to go inside the house and stay there for twenty minutes. "I'll wait out here and then I'll go in by myself, okay?"

"Fine. Let's do it," Nick said, then he walked up to the old house, turned the door handle and went in.

Drew shook his head and followed. "Idiot!" I heard him whisper. "Always in such a hurry to go do something dangerous or stupid. I swear, I got all the brains between us."

I hesitated a moment, then cast a small glamour over a tree in the yard, making it look as though I was leaning against it. In actuality, I was going to use this time the twins were inside the house to sneak down the street and creep onto the Shining Path property, to see if I could spy on the people within the house.

I ran swiftly yet silently down the street, ignoring the chill wind that blew about me. A chill wind is an ill wind that bodes no good, I thought then laughed softly at myself for being a superstitious idiot. Must be the town. It was steeped in centuries of superstition.

I found my way back to the Brotherhood headquarters easily, even in the dark. I was used to prowling around at night, from when I used to run with the Ravens, and the dark held no terrors for me. At least not the supernatural kind. The wind nipped at my ears, but I ignored it, examining the wrought iron gate intently. I didn't know how to perform an unlocking charm yet, so I'd have to do it the old-fashioned way, with a lockpick.

I set to work with my wire, which was a straightened bobby pin I'd palmed from Aunt Teri's hair kit in the bathroom. Some thieves will tell you that you need specially made tools to pick a lock, but I knew better. I could jimmy most locks with a bit of wire or a credit card, no sweat. It'd been over a year since I'd done anything shady, but I still had all my old skill, and the lock popped on the third try. Three seconds. Not bad, though I'd of been quicker once.

I slipped inside the grounds, carefully shutting the gate behind me and glided over the grass like a ghost. Moving silently is a skill you can be taught, but some people master it quicker than others. I was a natural, light, swift, and graceful. It had helped me survive on the streets of the Lower East Side and before that in the orphanage.

In the moonlight, the house looked even more imposing than during the day. I peered carefully about before I left the cover of a small rhododendron bush and inched my way alongside the house. I needed to find a handhold before I tried to scale the wall up to that second story window where I thought I'd seen my friend.

Luckily for me the house was old brick and mortar, slightly crumbled, and therefore easy to find chinks to fit the tips of my fingers and toes. I was fortunate that I was still small and light, for a heavier boy or a man couldn't have managed to climb all the way to the top. But I practically ran up the wall, perching on the top of the ledge that ran across the brickwork. Then I tried to peer into the window.

It was partially covered by a skimpy lace curtain, but I could make out part of the room. I saw what looked like a chair and a floor lamp with one bulb burning. I tapped softly on the pane, the old code for the Ravens. If Monkey were in that room, she'd hear it and come over.

I mentally counted off seconds in my head, freezing nearly motionless against the side of the house. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Then there was a movement inside and suddenly Monkey's dark eyes peered out at me from the window.

They widened in shock, and I put a finger to my lips.

She nodded, then put her lips to the glass and mouthed my name. Then she made the sign in thieves cant for "What are you doing here?"

Thieves cant is a secret sign language we of the streets invented to speak to each other when we were casing a place or picking a mark. It was as good as ASL (American Sign Language) and we could speak to each other fluently without anyone knowing.

"Me?" I signed with my left hand, since my right was clinging to the bricks. "How about _you_? What the blazes are you doing in there?"

"I'm having a party," she signed, twisting her fingers for sarcasm. "I was kidnapped, Gavin."

"Where?"

"Right across the street from our pad," she signed rapidly, angrily. "I was reading the letter you sent from the mailbox when all of a sudden these two goons in ski masks came outta nowhere and nabbed me. They pressed a cloth to my face with some kinda sleeping drug and I took a long nap. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in this damn room here."

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, but something about her answer didn't jive with me.

"They hurt you?" I repeated, locking eyes with her.

This time she glanced away. "A couple of smacks," she admitted. "Nothin' I couldn't handle. They wanted info on you, Gav. They asked me all sorts of questions about the mailbox, how I knew to put letters in it, who delivered them, that sort of thing."

I felt my stomach turn over. "What did you say?"

"Not a damn thing! You think I'd rat you out?" Her dark eyes flashed. "I'm no Slick."

"You should tell them something. So they don't hurt you. Sev's spell will permit it."

She shook her head. "They're nuts, Gav. They call me witch friend and the Devil's Handmaid and say I'm going to hell unless I recant of my darkness. Screwed up mothas! One in particular, he looks a bit like you, in fact, looks at me like I'm lower than dirt. The others call him Captain Hawthorne, or just Captain. I think he's in charge."

I felt my stomach do a flip. Hawthorne. So Evelyn had been right. Her nephew was involved in this whole thing. I felt the shadows deepen about me. "Monkey, why haven;t you tried to get out?"

"Cause I can't fly when I'm hooked to a damn chair. They got me cuffed around my ankle with an iron chain, like those slaves used to wear in the Civil War flicks. I can't pick it, got no wires."

"How long have you been here?"

"Dunno. A week, maybe more."

"I'm getting you out of there. It's not you they want, Monkey, it's me. Wizards. They're witch hunters. They call themselves the Brotherhood of the Shining Path."

"I know. Hawthorne told me first day I was here. Said by associating with a warlock I was tainted." She spat angrily. "He's sick, Gavin. Thinks he's on a holy crusade. Says he going to cleanse the world of all the witches and wizards with fire and make it pure again. "I shall make of this earth a Paradise, where no unclean thing shall walk, unto Eden that was lost." He's bonkers, Wolf. But then, so are they all."

"I know. Hang tight, and I'll spring you, okay?"

But to my shock she shook her head. "No! Don't come here again, Wolf! It's too dangerous. They've got heat, lots of it. State of the art, sniper rifles and all. I saw it when the guards come in to bring me food. Stay away! Please."

"Like hell. I aint leavin' you. Ravens stick together."

"No! Gavin, please!" To my horror, I saw her eyes fill with tears. "Don't be a fool. I can take anything, so long as I know you're safe."

I felt ill. "What do you mean? Damn it, what are they doing?"

She dropped her gaze then. "Just go. Or if you want, tell Severus. Let him deal with it."

"Janie, damn it! I want to help you."

"Help me by getting lost then. Tell your dad. Don't come yourself. You don't know . . ."

"Don't know what?"

Just then I heard a sound from inside, footsteps.

Monkey jerked away from the window. "Go! Get out of here!" she signed before turning away.

I hesitated for the briefest instant, longing to smash the window and confront whoever was coming into the room.

But that was a fool's plan. I had no wish to get shot. But I'd be back, I vowed. Monkey was involved because of me, I thought with a sick feeling in my stomach. If I hadn't sent her that letter the Brotherhood would have left her alone. They'd probably been watching the mailbox and when Monkey had gone to get the letter, they'd pounced.

My friend was in danger because of me. I scurried crab-like down the side of the building and was across the lawn like a shadow fleeing the sunlight. I arrived back at the haunted house just as my cousins were emerging from it.

"Your turn, Gav," Nick challenged.

I nearly told him to shove off, I was so upset. But I stopped myself just in time. They couldn't know where I'd been, what I'd been doing for the past twenty minutes. I wasn't about to drag them into danger too. So I simply nodded and went up the stairs. "Ten minutes," I hissed.

Then I went inside. It was dark and empty, nothing moved. I sank to my knees and looked at my watch, which glowed in the dark. 12:30. The witching hour, I thought. I recalled Monkey's desperate plea-_Don't come for me yourself! Tell your dad._

I knew that would be the smart thing to do. To just tell Dad everything and let him take care of it. He was the Director, he knew how to deal with this level of criminal. The Hunters could mop up the floor with these guys. Maybe. I shivered suddenly. It begins again. History repeats itself. I wished with all of my heart that I'd let my father make Monkey forget about wizards and our world, the way he'd wanted to after we'd been rescued from the Shifter. Then she wouldn't have gotten involved in the Brotherhood's insane crusade.

I conjured a ball of fire and played with it, feeling sick to my stomach. I thought about waking my dad up the minute we got back to the hotel, but my nerve failed me. I didn't want to get the twins in trouble. No, this was my problem. I'd tell my father tomorrow, soon as he woke up. And then we'd see if a Dark Hunter was a match for the Captain or whatever he called himself.

I looked at my watch and realized it was time to leave. I stood up and walked out of the door, goosebumps prickling the back of my neck.

"Well, Gav? Did you see a ghost?" asked Drew.

"No. There's no such thing. Least not in there," I said shortly. "C'mon. Before somebody sees us."

We made our way back to the hotel, slipping easily into the lobby and up the elevator. I opened the door to our room and we crept back into bed with our parents none the wiser for our little midnight ramble. I canceled the glamour and then got back into pajamas and into bed. Where I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, dreading and hoping for the coming of dawn.

**Well, they didn't get caught, but what will Gavin do now? Read the next one to find out! I really couldn't stop writing over the weekend!**


	12. Desperate Measures

**Desperate Measures**

But dawn found me sound asleep and thus I missed catching my father before he left to bring a Hunter pair and their suspect to Inferno. I learned much later that he'd gotten that call somewhere around four or five in the morning and had left immediately. The first we knew of it was when Aunt Teri read the note he'd written and placed on the nightstand next to her bed.

I was torn between relief and terror. Now I didn't have to confront him and admit my misdeeds face to face, but I also had lost my chance to have him rescue Monkey first thing. My guilt and fear for her far outweighed what childish relief I felt at delaying my punishment. What was I going to do now? I wondered frantically. I couldn't call him on his spellophone, he'd said he would be unavailable on it for several hours, Inferno was masked and veiled beyond belief, and standard spellophone charms didn't work there.

I bit my lip and pondered my next course of action even as I showered and changed. The way I saw it, I had two choices: one, wait for Dad to return and let him go and rescue Monkey, or two, go and rescue her myself. I knew which option she'd have told me to go for. And I'd have taken it too, really I would've, if things had worked out differently this morning. But as it was, I had a sickening feeling that if I waited something awful would happen to her. Call it instinct, call it precognition, whatever, that little voice in the back of my mind was screeching its head off that it was too dangerous to wait even a few hours.

I recalled something Arista had said once, when she was telling me of all the crazy stunts she used to get up to as a kid back in England. "It wasn't that I didn't know full well the consequences of misbehaving, because believe me, Dad had made them quite clear a number of times. But then something would happen, like Scout nearly dying, or Wrackspur maybe telling Voldy about Mel being a ghostwalker, and suddenly I'd be forced to say to myself, is it worth getting in trouble, to save your friend or your dog? And usually the answer was-hell yes! And so I'd go do the forbidden, knowing all the while at some point I'd have to answer to him for my actions, and I accepted whatever he dished out because I'd earned it and known the consequences beforehand. I broke the rules and Dad punished me, end of story. There was no whining about how it was unfair or I didn't know."

_Well, Gavin? Is it worth getting your ass kicked to save Monkey?_ I asked myself then. I winced just imagining how furious he was going to be when he found out what I'd done this time. But I'd endure even the wrath of Severus Snape for Jane Eyre Arnold, I decided a moment later. She'd risked her neck for me this past November to free me from the Shifter, and she had no magic and was only an ordinary Muggle girl. How could I, a firecaller and a wizard, do any less?

I quickly shut out the small voice in the back of my mind that yelled, _do the smart thing and let the adults handle it for once, Gavin Snape. _If I did that and she died I'd never forgive myself. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I dressed and went down for breakfast with my cousins and Aunt Teri. I forced myself to act normal, eating and joking around with Drew and Nick. They wanted to go to the beach today, which Aunt Teri agreed to, and I silently cursed, for that took me out of town.

Once we arrived there, I waited until the twins were involved in their surfing and my aunt had settled down in the beach chair to read before I came up to her and said I wanted to go back to the hotel and lie down. Aunt Teri looked at me in concern, "Do you still feel sick, Gavin?" She reached out a hand to feel my forehead.

"Yeah. My head hurts," I lied.

"You do feel slightly warm. Okay, promise me you'll go straight back to the hotel and you can go yourself. Your dad ought to be back soon anyhow, he can give you some more potions if you need them."

"Okay. I'll go back to the hotel, no problem," I agreed swiftly. I wasn't lying either, for I really did want to go back to the hotel, so I could leave Dad a note explaining where I was and why. It was my backup, in case something went wrong, and also an attempt to lessen his anger at my foolishness. I mean, last time I'd gotten in trouble for not leaving a note for my grandparents and running off incognito to New York. This time, at least I'd be able to say "Look, I told you where I was going, Dad, doesn't that count for something? Like maybe you won't take my broom away for an entire month? Or spank the daylights out of me like I deserve?"

The note wasn't going to get me off the hook totally, but it might get me a reduced sentence, I thought hopefully, as I hopped in the cab and rode back to the hotel.

There I quickly located a piece of parchment and a quill and penned a short but detailed note. I left it where he'd be sure to find it, right next to his suitcase. _Sorry Dad, I know you're gonna flip out big time and I hate to make you worry, but I've got no choice. Ravens stick together and I hope you can forgive me._

Then I recast the glamour of Tristan Meese over myself and headed out to Rochester Street once more. The Brotherhood didn't know it, but they were about to get a new recruit.

* * * * * *

My plan for infiltrating the Brotherhood was simple, go in and pretend I was a new recruit, one who was clueless but who hated witches. Evelyn had said they liked to recruit young, so I didn't think my age, I now looked about thirteen, would be a problem. Once I was inside I'd observe and listen a little before going in and springing Monkey. I thought about torching the place, burning the damn house to the ground, but I quickly smothered that idea.

Not that I couldn't do it, for as a seventh level firecaller I could do it easily. Even stone and brick will burn if the fire is hot enough. But I'd have to really cut loose in order to do that, and I wasn't certain I could keep from killing innocent people if I let my fire blaze too brightly. Plus, I really didn't like killing people that way, even if they might deserve it. Killing was a last resort, or so my father had always stressed to me. In his whole career as a spy for the Order, I think he'd killed maybe a dozen to two dozen necromancers, including Lucius Malfoy. I knew too that the Hunter code, though it allowed for self- defense and combat magic against a suspect, also put capturing ahead of killing a criminal.

The legendary Amelia Amarotti Snape, in her short but brilliant career as a Hunter, had only one kill to her name-the vile Kittrick Slade. And she was one of my personal heroes, up there with my dad as far as people I most wanted to be like.

So, much as I wanted to smoke the Brotherhood, I controlled my temper. This was not a video game, where I could reset if I screwed up. This was real life, and a wrong decision could cost lives. Later, once I'd gotten Janie away and safe, _then_ maybe I'd show those scum what a real bonfire was like. But until then I'd play it cool.

Getting into the mansion proved ridiculously easy. I knocked on the door, then opened it and went in. Convincing the man sitting at the polished oak desk in the huge marble foyer was a bit harder, but I knew the attitude and the stuff he wanted to hear. I'd had Ferrous's doctrine of magic is evil and witches are to be hated shoved down my throat from the time I was three, and I knew it by heart. Spewing the sentiments back at the guard/recruiter or whatever he was made me nauseous, but I managed it. I also laced my words with the hint of a suggestion spell, something I'd learned when I was with the dragons.

The guy, whose name was Richards, took everything I said for gospel, and then he put my name down in a large black book. "You're the first recruit we've gotten in three weeks, Tristan. Welcome, and after the trial period of three months, you'll be a full member." He rose and said, "Follow me, I'll show you where you can hang out until the Captain comes back. His name's Matthew Hawthorne, his family is descended from the great Judge John Hawthorne, who participated in the Salem witch trials. But all of us call him Captain or sir. He's an Enforcer, a high rank in the Brotherhood. An Enforcer is one who leads the hunts for witches."

_How very sporting of him,_ I thought with a concealed sneer. "Does he lead the Brotherhood then?" I asked, trying to get a feel for who was in charge here.

Richards shook his head. "No. The Grand Judge does. Albert Marcellier. But he is away, concentrating on other matters in the South. But the Captain is one of his most trusted subordinates, third only from the top position. You'll meet him later on, he likes to speak with each new recruit personally."

He led me down a long hallway decorated with portraits of unsmiling grim faced men in stiff suits or judge's robes. I assumed they must be former leaders of the Brotherhood, they looked the type. A shiver of fear crawled down my spine. I felt as if I'd walked into a den of scorpions, and they were going to sting me to death. It was like living with Ferrous all over again, with one difference. I had chosen it this time around, and I could escape if I wanted to.

Once I'd run away, I had vowed that never again would I ever be at someone's mercy the way I'd been at Ferrous's. And I never had been. Richards showed me into a large room wallpapered in striped blue and white.

It had a bed in one corner and a huge TV, plus a couch and a long table with some snacks and juice on it. My stomach rumbled hungrily but I ignored it. "Help yourself to whatever you want," Richards said, indicating the table. "You can watch TV or read if you want, but no going beyond this door. Captain's orders."

"Yes sir," I agreed, looking a bit intimidated. I had no intention of staying in this room once he was gone, of course. "How long do you think it'll be before the Captain comes?"

Richards shrugged. "No idea. Could be a couple of hours though. Until then, you stay put. Will anyone be looking for you at home?"

"Nah. My foster parents don't care where I am, so long as I'm outta their hair," I said nonchalantly.

"Fine. Take a nap or whatever, Tristan." Then he departed.

I heaved a mental sigh of relief. Easy as pie. I made myself wait about ten minutes before I cast another glamour spell, showing me sleeping in the bed. I turned the TV on low, making it seem as if I was watching it. Then I slipped out the door. I would cast a light shield if I heard someone coming, I thought, then I set out to explore the place.

I peered into all the rooms down the hallway near my own, discovering that most of them were unused and had bits of white sheets covering the furniture, one was a boardroom, and one had a good sized game room, complete with a pool table, ping pong table, a pinball machine, and the like. Opposite the game room was a fully equipped gym. Some large guys were working out there, I ducked quickly out of sight. Apparently they took their exercise seriously around here.

I headed up the hall, moving back towards the main entrance and the large set of stairs I'd seen, which was, no doubt, where Monkey was being held. Richards was still on duty in the foyer, going through some paperwork. I wondered if he had another job besides that one, surely these people worked and only did this on the side, they couldn't all be independently wealthy.

I started up the staircase, silent as a shadow, only to halt abruptly as I caught sight of two men walking back and forth on the top of the balcony. They were dressed in some kind of semi-para military uniform and they carried guns on their shoulders.

**Hope you all enjoyed the last few chapters! What do you think will happen now? **

**Next: Gavin discovers something unusual concerning the Captain of the operation while searching for Monkey.**


	13. The Baby on the Doorstep

**The Baby On the Doorstep**

Guns? My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I had known they were always a possibility, but possibility and reality are two different things. Of course there are guns, Gavin! I scolded myself. What did you think they did, waved around feathers? They're an underground paramilitary group dedicating to ridding the world of wizards, dope! Still, I had to admit the sight of those black barrels had cold chills racing up and down my spine. I recalled the conversation I'd had with my father recently, about whether there was a spell to protect against bullets. I prayed he knew it and that it worked. Hell, I wish _I_ knew it, though I suspected it was probably way beyond my current casting capabilities. I was only an apprentice, after all.

I wrapped the light shield tighter about myself. My glamour casting couldn't make me truly invisible, but it did obscure me from normal sight, so that when somebody looked directly at me, all they saw was an odd blur, kind of like the flash reflection you get from staring at the sun too long. But it would serve to get me past the two guarding the landing.

I watched and waited, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. Steady, Gavin. Now's not the time to be hasty, I whispered silently. Now's the time to cultivate that famous Snape control Dad's always going on about. It was that control that had made him able to be a spy for so long, and what made him so damn good at hunting down criminals. I wished I possessed even a tenth of it.

I forced myself to breathe deeply, evenly, to slow my heart rate so I was not panting and my blood was not rushing through my veins like an express train. Good. Good. Be calm. I relaxed and waited for the moment when the two guards had their backs to me, as they made the turn at opposite ends of the landing.

Then I sprang up the stairs, moving on cat's feet, and before they realized it I was on the top of the landing. I didn't pause, but ran straight to the right, for that was where the window Monkey had peered out of was. The guard I passed frowned in puzzlement, but didn't even realize something had gone by him in the hallway.

I slipped down the hall, my ears and eyes alert, listening for any sound of voices. I tried all the handles of the doors on this side, finding most of them locked. Then, the fourth door I passed, I heard voices. One was a rather pleasant tenor, the other a little deeper. I groped for the handle and to my surprise, it turned easily.

I inched it open, then put my eye to the slender crack.

In the room beyond, a rather tall dark-haired man sat behind a desk. He was dressed in a conservative button down white shirt and tie, a jacket hung over the chair arm. He appeared to be in his mid thirties or thereabouts, goodlooking, Caucasian man with deep brown eyes. I squinted, wishing I dared shove the door open further. There was something oddly familiar about this man, though I could've sworn I'd never seen him before in my life. And yet . . .his features were strangely familiar.

I looked at the other man, who was sitting opposite him. He looked a bit older than the one seated behind the desk, with wavy reddish hair and he was wearing camis, like the soldiers do during wartime. He was turned towards the door in a three-quarter profile, but I could just make out a rigid jaw and a narrow nose and green eyes.

" . . .almost time to make our move, sir," the older man was saying. "If we wait too long, the freaks will call in reinforcements. I've heard tell they've got their own army or police force or something."

"Relax, Hart. All in good time, my friend. Move too soon and we risk losing the prey. The five we located are but fuel for the fire. I'm after bigger fish, Hart. I want one of their masters, one of their major players. There's one I believe that calls himself the Director, or some such title. A warlock steeped in the Black Arts if ever there was one." The guy's dark eyes began to shine queerly. "I want that one, Hart! If I take him down, it will be a great victory for the Brotherhood. God has shown me the way and the Light, and I am his arm of righteousness. I shall bring the Light of Heaven to the wicked and erase forever the taint of magic from the world."

"Indeed, Captain," said Hart, inclining his head.

I froze. _Captain? Was this the Captain Hawthorne Richards had spoken of? The one Evelyn had said was her nephew?_ It had to be, and I shivered at the fanatical light in his eyes, a light I'd seen countless times in another pair of eyes for over half my childhood. Ferrous's. Even so, I wanted to laugh at the way the asshole was acting, like he knew all there was to know about wizards, when in fact he'd barely scratched the surface. He'd called my dad, the slayer of numerous dark wizards, a practitioner of darkness! Severus Snape! The man was dumber than dirt, he wouldn't know a true necromancer if one came up and kicked him in the ass. Then again, why should I expect anything more from someone who'd made a career out of persecuting wizards and witches? Who was obsessed with following a code that should have died out over two hundred years ago?

I turned my ear back, for Hawthorne was speaking again. " . . .really too bad about Hannibal Ferrous, he was one of our most loyal members, worked as a recruiter for years, my father knew him. Over a quarter of our members came from his orphanage. But then he grew careless and let his temper run away with him . . ." Hawthorne shook his head and sighed. "Fifteen counts of child abuse, and every one of the little bastards willing to testify in court, the lawyers refused to plea bargain . . .we had no choice but to let him take the fall, he was a liability."

"You did the right thing, sir," parroted Hart, like a good little subordinate. "The secrecy of the Brotherhood before all else."

I should have known! Ferrous was a member of the damn Brotherhood. No wonder he'd been so fanatical about my using magic, so determined to beat all traces out of me. And then I recalled the other thing Hawthorne had said, about getting recruits from the orphanage. Obviously Ferrous had been teaching some of the orphan boys, he'd had no use for girls, the Brotherhood doctrine and then sending them on to Hawthorne when they were ready to become full-fledged members and take part in the killing or whatever. No wonder he'd run the orphanage like some damn kiddie boot camp.

"Yes, Ferrous failed me, failed us, and for that he was punished." Hawthorne steepled his fingers on the desktop. "He failed me even more personally, as I'm sure you know, Al."

The other man nodded. "He lost your son, didn't he?"

"Yes. He cost me my heir, the child I would have trained up to succeed me one day as Enforcer. Actually, it was not entirely his fault, Hart. The real blame must lie with my wife, Abby, who chose to repudiate her wedding vows of obedience and try and steal my son from me. She thought she could leave me and take my child away and not suffer the consequences! She wanted to raise our son away from the Shining Path, claimed it was subversive, that it was unnatural. Stupid bitch!"

"Women are weak, vessels of sin, like it says in the Bible."

"Just so, and Abby was weaker than most. She listened to my crazy aunt and was tempted into sin. She refused to listen to me, even when I struck her. Instead I woke one morning to find her gone and my son Johnny also. She thought she could run from me, but there was nowhere she could go that I wouldn't find her. She hid from me for a month, but one of our agents finally spotted her in New York. Then I came for her and taught her the final error of her ways."

The way he spoke of his wife made my flesh creep. I knew then that he had killed her, killed her for defying him, poor woman. She'd only been trying to protect her son from his monster of a father. But what had happened to the baby?

"But I couldn't raise Johnny myself, I was too busy, I had too many commitments, both to the Brotherhood and my regular job. So I left him on the doorstep of Morningstar Orphanage, which Ferrous ran, and told him to raise my son as befit the heir to the Brotherhood. He promised me he would instruct the boy as I would, that he would make sure Johnny was a credit to me."

"What happened?"

"He screwed up. He left the boy too long in the care of the nurses or whatever, didn't start teaching him Brotherhood doctrine until he was three or four, and by then he'd been corrupted or whatever. Told Ferrous he could see spirits, believed in magic, of all the blasphemous nonsense . . ."

I felt my soul shrivel in horror. God in heaven, no! This couldn't be happening. I had to have heard wrong. Because _I_ had been left on the doorstep of the orphanage as a baby, abandoned and unwanted, or so I'd always been told. _Your ma abandoned you' cause you were a tainted freak, boy!_ Ferrous sneered in my head.

I felt sick to my stomach. That had been a lie. My whole life I'd believed my mother had hated me, had wanted to get rid of her own child for some reason known only to her. But that assumption had been false. I had not been abandoned, my mother had not thrown me away like so much garbage. She had been murdered, killed trying to get me away from the monster sitting behind the desk.

" . . .I told Ferrous to make sure those notions were driven out of his head, by whatever means necessary. He promised me he'd see to it, but then something went wrong, the kid ran away one day and Ferrous couldn't find him, it was as if he'd vanished . . "

I had vanished, in a manner of speaking. Vanished into the streets of the Lower East Side, sheltered by the Ravens, who taught me to walk the shadows and become one with the night.

I felt my head spin with the awful revelations I'd heard. My stomach threatened to rebel, I forced my nausea down. I could not get sick now. Much as I longed to spew my guts all over the disgusting man who called himself my father.

Captain Matthew Hawthorne, Enforcer.

Murderer, bastard, who'd left his only child at the mercy of a sadist like Ferrous. He'd given me willingly into Ferrous's care, knowing what he would do. I wondered if he'd ordered Ferrous to whip me. Yes, that would be like him.

I longed to bust into the office and spit right in his arrogant face. He had left me to five years of hell, but now the joke was on him. For little did he know that he'd sired a wizard. I would bet all the gold in the US mint that Ferrous hadn't told him _that_ little detail. Couldn't have the Enforcer learning that his offspring was tainted with magic, magic that had come, ironically enough, from his side of the family.

I started to tremble slightly as the full impact of his words hit me.

The first beating I'd ever gotten was when I was around three, when I'd innocently told Ferrous when he'd asked me what I was staring at that I'd seen a good spirit. "There are no good spirits, boy!" he'd screamed. "Only minions of the devil. What blasphemy are you speaking, you devil spawn? Such is evil, wicked, and not for little boys, especially not ones like you!" That began the round of daily abuse I was subject to until I'd finally managed to run away years later. Severus had told me when I'd spoken to him about that memory that the good spirit I had seen might have been a zephyr, an Air Elemental that resembled a young boy with wings.

When I was little, I used to dream about finding my real parents, how they would come for me and love me and never beat me or hurt me. It had never happened, and eventually I'd quit hoping and started planning my escape. Then Severus had adopted me, and suddenly one gaping hole was filled. I had no mother still, and that left a gnawing ache deep in my heart, but I could deal with it. I had a father who loved me and that had to be enough.

It was enough. I had no desire to find my biological parents, who'd abandoned me on the doorstep like last week's trash.

Except now my past had come back to haunt me.

Johnny Hawthorne, my mind hissed. Once that had been my name. I'd been named for that damn witch-hunter judge, I thought, feeling even more ill. Then I shook my head. No! I was Gavin Albus Snape, not John Hawthorne. I wanted no part of the Hawthorne legacy, which seemed to bring only sorrow and death.

_I'm not your son!_ I longed to shout. _You're not my father, Sev is. And by all that's holy, I swear I'm going to do all in my power to bring you down, Hawthorne. The prodigal son's returned, Daddy Dearest, and you don't need to kill the fatted calf, you need to start running before I roast you over a damn fire._

Now I knew why his face seemed so familiar to me. The resemblance was unmistakable, much as I hated to admit it. I'd look very much like him twenty or so years from now. The thought made me feel even more nauseous. I hated the fact that he and I shared blood, for what he'd done in his life turned my stomach. How many had he condemned to death for no reason save that he thought they should die because they were witches?

He'd even targeted his own aunt. Hell, he murdered his own wife in cold blood, so I shouldn't be surprised any more. I closed my eyes tightly, feeling tears well up behind them. I could recall very little of my early years at Morningstar, for those years had not been unpleasant, indeed they were one of the few times I'd ever encounter an adult who was kind to me. Ferrous did not want to waste his time caring for an infant, so he hired two nurses to take care of all the little ones who were under three.

It was one of them, Molly McLaine, that had told me stories of fairies and magic, and played with me and sang silly songs to me after she'd bathed me and whatever. I'd really liked her, called her My Molly, but once I was three and potty trained and able to feed myself, Ferrous had removed me from her care. Poor Molly had been dismissed from the orphanage once Ferrous learned she was the one who'd been filling my head with all those stories, he'd terrified me into revealing that bit of information with a switching and being locked in a dark closet. Knowing what I did about Ferrous and his damn organization, I prayed that all he'd done was fire her. I was almost certain she hadn't been harmed, for as the bastard behind the desk had pointed out, they didn't want any scandal attached to their members. Hopefully sweet Molly McLaine had gone on to a better job and raised a family, like she'd wanted.

Funny, I hadn't thought about her in years, but listening to the conversation between the two Shining Path fanatics had brought her back to me, one of the few good memories I had about Morningstar. My eyes narrowed and I glared at the man who dared to call himself my father, holier-than-thou Matthew Hawthorne, and I wished him dead and gone to hell. One way or another, I'd make him pay for what he'd done, I vowed.

_Your day of reckoning is upon thee, Hawthorne. This is for my mom Abby, Molly, Janie and me, the son you abandoned to Ferrous's tender mercies all those years ago. What you sowed now ye shall reap, unto the tenth generation._

Fire surged restlessly in my blood, begging me to set it free. I controlled my urges however, and bid it wait. Now was not the time for my power to slip its leash. First I needed to find Monkey and get her out of this hellhole. Then and only then would I show my true colors as a firecaller.

I crept away from the door, I'd had heard enough of their conversation. I made my way down the hallway, trying all of the doors I came to. Finally, in the second to last one, I made out a girl's voice, trembling with fatigue and fear, answering another, deeper male one.

"I told ya and told ya-I don't know anything more!"

"Now why don't I believe that, pretty?" laughed the man's voice. "I think you're lying to me, girlie. And girls that lie to Valmont get punished."

I heard the sound of wood striking flesh, it was a sound I was intimately familiar with.

Then a gasp and whimper.

"You gonna talk now, pretty? Or shall I give you another lesson?"

Monkey told him to do something anatomically impossible with himself.

I was picking the lock as quickly as I dared, and it gave just as the brute was drawing back the stick in his hand for another blow. Janie was crouched on the floor at his feet, shackled by a length of iron chain to a chair, one arm up to ward off a second blow. Her arm bore a red welt on it from the previous one.

I saw red. How dare this miserable bastard pig hurt her? The fire within me roared to life and I darted a flicking tongue of flame at the stick in the bald man's hand.

It caught instantly, becoming ash in a second.

"What the HELL?" he cried, shaking his hand. He whirled around to face me, his hand reaching for his gun.

"Bastard!" I snarled. "If you want answers, ask _me_, stupid asshole!" My eyes burned with fire.

"Warlock!" he gasped, pointing the semi-automatic at me. "How dare you come here?"

"Gavin?" Monkey sobbed. "Is that you? Run! He'll kill you!"

"In his dreams, Monkey," I said. I conjured a fire shield just as the goon cut loose with a round.

The bullets slammed into my shield and melted under the intense heat. None of them reached me.

The bully went pale and backed away.

I smiled coldly. "Want to play with fire?"

"God in Heaven!" he cried, shivering. "Get thee hence, devil!"

I laughed softly. "You're the devil, not me, hurting little girls." Then I heated his weapon, making it blaze red hot.

He screamed in agony and dropped it. I melted it where it fell. He held up his hands in surrender, babbling and whimpering. They were blistered and burned, he'd be lucky if he could use them again without reconstructive surgery.

I pointed with my hand, letting a little flamelet dance on the end of my finger. "Move over there, scumbag. And not a sound out of you, or else you're toast, got me?"

He nodded, tears filling his eyes, then he moved over to the far corner. I etched a circle of fire about him, making the flames knee high, so he wouldn't be tempted to step over them.

Then I dropped to my knees beside my friend, who was a wreck. They'd been at her for some time, she had black and blue marks on her face, arms, and her legs, what I could see of them below her shorts. She was darker skinned than I was, for she's got Hispanic blood in her, but the bruises and cuts were still noticeable. Her pink T-shirt was ripped in places and not by design. I swore under my breath and pulled my magic back inside myself.

"You okay, Janie?" I whispered softly, releasing the glamour.

"Been better, bro," she replied, and her dark eyes misted with tears.

I'd never seen her cry ever, she'd always been as tough as nails, a real scrapper. "I'm getting you outta here, girl. Lemme see that shackle."

She extended her left foot, and I took it in my hands, noting with another furious curse that her ankle was swollen and bleeding, she'd obviously been trying without success to get it off herself. I examined the locking mechanism, then inserted my wire, but the damn thing was rusted and the wire snapped before I'd given it five turns.

"Damn!" I growled.

"Gavin, get out of here!" Monkey whispered, her eyes full of fear. "Before they come in to see what's wrong. You should've never come here alone."

"How do you know I'm alone?" I asked, yanking what remained of the wire out of the lock.

She gave me an annoyed look. ""Cause you never do what I tell you, Wolf-boy. You always think you know it all."

"Sometimes I do, girl," I joked lightly. "Hold still, I'm going to magic these off."

"How?"

"You'll see." I concentrated, casting a skin-tight barrier of air about her ankle and foot. Then I put the tips of my fingers about the shackle and sent a pinpoint burst of fire into it, making it glow cherry red for an instant.

Monkey yelled, even though it didn't burn.

"Hush, Janie!" I snapped. "I won't burn you. Trust me."

"You sure 'bout that?" she cried, shaking.

"Positive," I said, then sent another pulse into the metal. This time it turned white hot around the edges and I struck it hard against the floor.

It shattered, breaking in half, and Monkey was free.

I helped her to her feet. "Can you walk?" I asked.

She nodded. "Walk, crawl, I'll do whatever it takes to get the hell out of here," she said gamely, though I could tell it hurt her to move.

"Think you can climb out the window?" I asked, wishing I'd thought to bring along some of Dad's healing salve.

She set her jaw and nodded. "Sure." Then she limped painfully over to the window and unlatched it.

It was then that the fire alarm or whatever chose to go off.

I should have anticipated that, but I wasn't thinking too clearly about anything except rescuing my friend at that point.

"Move!" I shouted at her, helping her over the sill.

"What about you, Gavin?"

"I'll follow," I told her impatiently. "Go down, Monkey. Hurry."

She obeyed, climbing slowly and painfully down the wall.

Then the bastard whose hands I'd blistered began screaming "Prisoner out! Captain! Prisoner escaping! 1099!"

"Shut the hell up!" I yelled, but he didn't, even when I made the flames shoot up to his shoulders.

Apparently, he'd already resigned himself to death and wanted to go out sounding the alarm to his brothers, the bloody martyr. I levitated a large glass bowl on the table and smacked him hard over the head with it.

He went down like a pig hit in the head with a mallet.

Then and only then did I put out the ring of flame I'd summoned.

But it was too late. The guy's cries had alerted the cavalry.

I spun around to see six men standing in the doorway, guns leveled right at me.

"On the floor! Now!" one of them barked.

"Screw you, Charlie!" I spat, and conjured up my fire shield once more, cloaking myself in a sheet of fire.

Several of them gasped and I heard more than few hiss "Warlock!" and "Devil worshipper!" before they opened fire at me.

I ducked and backed away towards the window out of reflex, though half the shots didn't hit me and peppered the wall instead with bullet holes. The rest of the bullets were absorbed into my shield and never touched me.

"Halt!" commanded a stern voice. "Hold your fire. I want him alive."

That voice I knew. Suddenly Matthew Hawthorne appeared in the doorway, his eyes glowing with fury. "How dare you profane our house with your foul presence, warlock?"

"Ha! That's something, calling me foul, when you stink to high heaven, Hawthorne!" I spat.

His eyes narrowed. "Do I know you, warlock?"

"No." I continued backing towards the window. Just a few more feet.

He was pulling something from his belt, a long metal tube. I didn't know what kind of weapon it was, it didn't look like much.

I formed a fireball in my hand and drew it back to throw it at him. "Catch, Daddy Dearest!"

But before my fireball could strike him, he blew and a cloud of fine blue dust settled about me. I coughed, breathed it in, and all of a sudden I felt my magic dwindle to nearly nothing. Huh? What the hell's happening to me? I wondered frantically. I tried to summon the magic that was my birthright, but I couldn't remember how to do it. My head was spinning, it felt light and fluffy, like a cloud, and I fell on my ass with a stupid grin pasted to my face.

Then I passed out and knew nothing until almost a whole day later.

**So what did you think of that little revelation? Shocking?**

**Next: Severus returns and discovers his son is missing. He's going to have a canary! And you'll see it from his POV, too!**


	14. Interlude: Severus

**Interlude:Severus**

I had just Apparated across half of New England when I'd returned from escorting several Hunters and their quarry to Inferno, and I was developing a first class migraine from it. So I stopped back at the hotel room to take a Headache Remedy before joining Teri and the kids at the beach, which was where we'd planned to spend most of the day. I appeared in the room with a soft pop, and went immediately to my potions kit and drew out the vial of clear fizzy potion and gulped it down. I knew better than to wait, for long distance Apparition is hell on me, and the last thing I needed was to develop a full-blown migraine.

It usually doesn't hit me until the return trip though, which was why I didn't bother taking it with me. I was just shutting the case when I spotted the envelope resting against my suitcase. It was addressed **_Dad_** and I recognized Gavin's handwriting immediately, Merlin knew I'd seen enough of it on assignments and lines for detention.

I picked it up and opened it, wondering what could be so important that he'd had to leave me a note rather than simply wait until I came back from my assignment to speak with me. It was only a few lines and I read it swiftly, my jaw clenched in fury.

**_Dad,_**

**_ By the time you read this, I'll already be at Rochester Street, trying to rescue Monkey from the Brotherhood. I would have told you this morning about my plan, but you were called away and I couldn't wait. They kidnapped her from NYC and have been keeping her prisoner for over a week, trying to get her to reveal information about us and our world. I spotted her face at the window of their headquarters yesterday and I went out last night to see if it was really her. I managed to speak cant with her for a few minutes, and she told me what had happened and to tell you she needed help. I was going to, honest, but you vanished before I got the chance and something tells me I can't wait for you to get back before I go for her, so I'm writing this to let you know where I am and what I'm doing. _**

**_ I should be back soon, and I'm really sorry, Dad, about disobeying you and all, but Ravens stick together. Please forgive me, sir. I know this doesn't excuse me from punishment, but I promise I'll explain everything later. _**

**_Regretfully,_**

**_Gavin_**

**_PS If I'm not back by one o'clock, something's happened and you should come looking for me._**

_Of all the irresponsible, reckless**, stupid**, Goddamn stunts!_ I thought furiously. "Son of a _bitch_, Gavin!" I yelled. Then I said it again, because I couldn't comprehend for a moment how my son could have done something like this. Again.

After what had almost happened when he'd run off without a word to New York to rescue that gang friend of his, Smoke or whatever he was called, and nearly ended up getting killed by Draco Malfoy six months ago, you'd have thought he'd learned his lesson. But no, here he was, doing almost the exact same thing, by Merlin's flaming staff!

My hand clenched on the parchment, crumpling it slightly. _Just wait till I get my hands on you, Gavin Albus Snape! You'll be lucky if you see the outside of your room for a month, you crazy kid. _A muscle throbbed in my jaw and I forced myself to take a deep breath. It wouldn't do to give myself a stroke before I found the disobedient little wretch and taught him a good lesson. Oh, but I was furious enough to paddle that kid's behind until he couldn't sit down for a day or so, swear to God. Didn't he realize what kind of fanatics the Brotherhood were? They'd been hunting and killing wizards and witches for over two centuries now, and there goes my son, waltzing over to their headquarters like it was the local mall or something.

Did he think that just because he was a firecaller that made him immune to bullets? He was an apprentice, by Merlin's ever-loving damn wand! He didn't even have six months worth of Defense training and yet he thought he was good enough to take on the Shining Path. I hit myself in the forehead. Why oh why did I always get kids who were so bloody impulsive, who were so damn determined to be heroes, who hardly ever stopped to count the cost before they went racing into danger?

You'd think I'd be used to this by now, after all the insane adventures Arista, Trish, and the rest of the SR's put me through. But no, then I had to go and adopt James Potter Jr., who had a bloody hero complex, and an impulsive streak the size of Manhattan. I massaged my temples, trying without success to relieve the sudden pounding behind my eyes. I glanced at my watch.

**1:30**.

I slammed my fist on the nightstand and spat a few choice curses my father had always been fond of, the only useful thing I'd ever learned from the bastard.

**_If I'm not back by one o'clock, something's happened and you should come looking for me._**

I felt my stomach clench in fear. I didn't even want to contemplate what might be happening, or had happened. I knew more than I wanted to about the so called Shining Path's methods of "persuasion" and how they liked to play with the wizards they captured before they executed them. Ambrose and Evelyn Proctor had been very explicit when I'd questioned them about the Brotherhood's practices.

They might not be able to use magic, but they were nearly as evil as the Death Eaters, and like them they believed their cause was a holy one, sanctioned by God. It made me sick, the way they profaned God's message to suit their own twisted notions of purity and vengeance. They were fanatics of the worst sort, like the Nazis or the Al Quaida, and those were always the most dangerous, for they feared nothing, not even death.

I shivered just imagining what they could be doing to my child or his friend. I had to go and find him, but I couldn't leave my sister-in-law and my nephews undefended. I had to go warn them first and take them somewhere safe. Then I could go rescue my crazy impulsive son. At least he had the sense to leave me a note this time, I acknowledged reluctantly. Maybe I wouldn't wallop him into next week, only tomorrow morning.

Assuming, of course, that he wasn't injured or worse. For if they'd harmed him in any way, shape or, form, they'd see the wrath of a master wizard, all right. I'd take them apart, and there wouldn't be enough of them left over to put in a burial urn. They could do their explaining to God while I explained myself to the President of the AMA, I thought, trembling with fear and fury. Just let my son be alive. Alive so I could hold him and hug him and shake him till his teeth rattled and whack his ass, then tell him I forgave him. That was all I asked for.

Because if he weren't-no, Sev, don't even go there! Don't even think of it. Gavin was alive, he _had_ to be. I hoped as well that his little friend, the spunky street brat Jane Eyre Arnold, was also all right. Muggle though she was, she was a true friend to us wizards, and I hated above all to think of a child her age hurt for any reason.

I took another deep breath, shrunk my potions kit and stuffed it in my jacket pocket just in case, then I called Colin, who was my second-in-command, Hunter Combat Master, and my surrogate little brother. I told him what had happened and that I wanted a backup team on Red Two Alert status, meaning that they should be prepared to move when I signaled them.

Then I Apparated to the beach near the hotel, where Teri and the twins were soaking up the sand and the surf. What a way to end a blasted vacation.

* * * * * *

"Sev, I had _no_ idea he was planning anything," Teri cried after I'd shown her the note. She looked like she was going to pass out, so I quickly grabbed her arm and told her to breathe. She took several deep breaths and then said, "He told me he wasn't feeling well and he wanted to go lie down at the hotel. I knew I should have followed him. I'm so sorry, I was responsible for him . . ."

"Teri, please! It's not your fault. Gavin's a magnet for trouble, you can't be expected to keep an eye on him every second. I thought he'd learned better after the last time, but I guess not. Incorrigible damn brat!" I growled.

"Uh oh. Gav's dead meat," I heard Nick mutter to Drew from behind me.

Yes, he was indeed.

"Yup. Uncle Sev's gonna kick his ass all the way to Cape May," Drew predicted.

Yes, I was in the mood to do some ass kicking all right. My son's and anyone else who got in my way.

"Teri, go back to the hotel and get the rest of our things, if you don't mind. We'll be relocating somewhere else for the time being. Somewhere that's warded and has Hunters patrolling," I instructed her.

"What about Gavin, Sev?"

"Don't worry, I'm going to find him. But I need you three under cover first. I'm not taking any chances on you becoming targets too. Hurry now."

She Disapparated with a soft pop and I turned to look at my nephews. "Did you two know anything about this crazy scheme of Gavin's?" I asked, giving them one of my best glares.

Both of them shook their heads and met my eyes, so I knew they were being honest. "No sir. Gavin never said anything to us about going to rescue a girl." Nick said.

"He told us the house was haunted," added Drew helpfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see, we went around Salem yesterday, to see some houses people said were haunted," Drew explained, digging a toe in the sand. He looked slightly embarrassed. "Gavin told us the one on Rochester Street was haunted too, but he never said anything about seeing his girlfriend inside it."

"Who said she was his girlfriend, idiot?" sneered Nick.

Drew shot his twin an irritated glance. "What the heck else d'you call it, Mr. Brilliant, when he risks his neck for her? If she ain't his girlfriend now, she sure as blazes ought to be."

"Like you know so much about girls."

"More than you."

"Enough bickering, you two," I said shortly, in no mood to have to break up another fistfight between them. They quarreled at the drop of a hat, over just about everything, Merlin help me! Typical brothers.

Teri returned before they could really get on my nerves, however, and then we each took a child and Apparated to my chosen safe house, which was Evelyn Proctor's place. She was a DHI informant, a widow who lived alone except for her seven cats and she had the room and the inclination to host my in-laws for a night or two. She had volunteered to help me with the investigation as much as she could, since she was seventy-five and had seen all there was to see about Salem and knew most of the locals too. I was very grateful for her assistance and I hoped she wouldn't mind us dropping in unannounced, so to speak.

I'd set up wards last time I'd come to her house, and they shimmered slightly when we walked onto the property, but permitted us to cross. They would stop a necromancer or a member of the Shining Path dead, though. That was at first. Those with dark auras or intentions would first come up against a barrier, like a sheet of glass, and get a slight shock. A warning. If they ignored it and tried to cross, the warning would become a bit more pointed, becoming a barrier of white fire and giving the person a nasty jolt and knocking them down. The third time, if there was a third time, the dark wizard would be the recipient of bolt that would scramble his brain for him, if not kill him outright.

Normally I didn't set wards to kill, but after what I'd learned of the Shining Path, I was taking no chances with the safety of my people.

I knew Teri and the boys would be safe here with Evelyn, and Erik Magnusson, my resident Hunter, would protect them with his life. Magnusson was one of my best, he'd been one of Colin's former apprentices, and once I contacted him and told him my family was joining Evelyn, nothing short of death would prevent him from doing his duty. His partner, Leshira, was a magicat, that's a magical panther that can blend into the shadows and is telepathic. Leshira was on the Hunter roster as a Magical Ally, basically that meant a non-human Hunter, like the bronze dragons. Magicats were one of the few species of magical animals willing to form partnerships with human wizards, and they were given full status with human Hunters as per the AMA. Leshira was one of six magicats currently in my employ. Between Erik and Leshira, my family would be well guarded.

I flipped open my spellophone and called Magnusson, informing him of the new arrivals. He took it in stride, cooly professional, as I'd expected. "Leshira and I will be watching, sir. Good hunting, Director."

"Watch well, Magnusson. Snape out." I said, then I escorted Teri and the kids up the front walk and introduced them to Evelyn.

"Of course your family is always welcome in my home, Director Snape," Evelyn said, displaying a level of warmth and politeness that had become lost over the years and to today's generation was a mere notion. She had Teri and my nephews seated at her table and eating homemade peach melba cake and drinking lemonade before you could say Quidditch, and would have pressed some on me as well, but I gently declined.

"I have to find my son, Evelyn, otherwise I'd take you up on your offer, it looks delicious."

"Thank you, Director. One of the few pleasures I have is baking," she said, smiling wistfully. "I hope you get your son back safe, sir. The Brotherhood has been most . . .agitated of late. They seem to be targeting more and more young people of late. Did young Tristan Meese contact you about being targeted by them as well? Or his teacher?"

I was puzzled. "Tristan Meese? Who is that?"

"A young wizard apprentice. He came to see me two days ago and I told him to tell his master to speak with you, to set up some Hunter protection. You mean he hasn't gotten in touch with you?"

"Not that I'm aware of." There was a nagging suspicion in the back of my head. "Evelyn, what did this boy look like?"

She didn't hesitate but answered promptly that he was around eleven, with blond hair that waved slightly, was average height, had blue eyes and wore glasses. The description was none that I recognized. "Anything else you can tell me about him?"

"Well, he seemed very concerned over the attacks and wanted to know about the Brotherhood. I told him all I dared, he seemed unusually intuitive for one so young. My cats liked him, and they don't cozy up to just anyone."

Alarm bells were going off in my head now. The one thing I hadn't been able to figure out was how the hell Gavin had figured out the location of the Shining Path headquarters. It wasn't as if they hung a sign out advertising themselves, after all. Yet he'd told me the address in his note, and that was privileged information. "Evelyn, did you happen to mention the Brotherhood's headquarters to that apprentice?"

"Yes, Director, I thought he should know how to avoid them," she answered, looking uneasy. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

I shook my head. "No, Mrs. Proctor, you haven't." _It wasn't your fault you were tricked by my sneaky son, who disguised himself with a glamour and masqueraded as Tristan Meese to gain information he wasn't meant to know. Oh, you have much to answer for, scamp!_

Still, it was a clever bit of spying, and if I hadn't been so angry with him for risking his blasted neck, I'd be proud for his ingenuity. He was more like me than he thought, my son in spirit, if not blood, I sighed. But he was in for a very long lecture when I finally got him safe at home, sure as my name was Severus Tobias Snape.

_But first you have to find him, Severus,_ my inner voice reminded me, and thus I bid goodbye to Evelyn and my family and went towards Rochester Street.

I walked very quickly, not daring to Apparate, as there were too many people about. I wasn't only worried about being seen using magic, but Apparition's dangerous in crowds, since the spot you intend to Apparate to can sometimes disappear if a person walks onto it. And then you can kill yourself or someone else. Well, I wasn't about to risk that. So I walked, and was very grateful for my long legs, which covered the distance from Evelyn's house to Rochester Street very quickly.

I was dressed in typical Muggle clothing, black pants, shoes, and a silver T-shirt with a picture of John Wayne on it and underneath it the words _I'm the law in this town_. That was Trish's little joke, for the Director really was the law in these parts, at least according to wizard standards. And I also happened to like John Wayne. He played characters I could relate to, tough, gritty, no-nonsense men who didn't give a damn what other people thought, but they did what was right.

The way I hoped I was doing right now.

My wand was tucked in my holder along my leg, nearly invisible against my black pants.

Luckily it was past lunch hour and there weren't too many people in Salem out and about right then. I wanted to avoid drawing a crowd, if possible. I was about thirty feet from the Shining Path headquarters when I caught sight of a slender girl with straggling dark hair limping down the street.

I had only met her once, but I never forget a face.

I opened my mouth to call to her, but then she looked up and spotted me.

I cursed under my breath, for the child had bruises all over her face and legs, and the sparkle I'd seen in her eyes last time we'd met was doused to a mere flicker. _Oh, child, what have they done to you?_

"Mr. Snape!" she cried and I halted and waited until she made her way over to me.

I flexed my fingers and cast a swift glamour over us, so all people would see was a girl meeting an old friend or a relative. My son isn't the only one who can weave expert glamours in the family. They'd been my stock in trade back when I was a spy.

"I knew you'd come!" she gasped, then practically fell into my arms, her bad leg giving way at that moment.

I caught her easily, she weighed almost nothing. Whatever those bastards had been doing, it sure as hell hadn't involved feeding the poor girl. She bit her lip when I picked her up, but other than that made no protest. "Where are you hurt, child?" I whispered. "And where's Gavin?"

"Back there," she jerked a thumb back at where the mansion was. "He tol' me to skedaddle out the window, so I did, but he was supposed to come after me, only he never showed." She shook her head, blinking hard, fighting tears. "I tol him not to come alone, but he never listens to me, damn it all! And now I think they've got him, the miserable bitching bastards."

"I'll get him out of there, Miss Jane," I said, reverting to my familiar teacher persona, since I felt most comfortable dealing with the little waif that way. I shifted my grip on her slightly, sensing I was causing her some discomfort. "But first I need to get you somewhere safe. What did those bastards do to you, child?"

She buried her face in my shirt, shaking. "Don't ask. Please, Mr. Snape. Please. You don't wanna know."

Oh hell. "All right. Calm down, child," I said, making my voice as soft as possible. The poor thing was shaking like a leaf.

"They wanted me to tell them about you . . .wizards, I mean," she continued in a strained voice, reminiscent of those I'd rescued from Voldemort's tender mercies. "But I didn't tell them nothing, sir! I'm no snitch like Slick was. No sir. Not me. Not me." Her voice broke then and she shivered and clutched me even tighter. I could feel her crying softly against my shirt.

I felt rage surge through me and I longed to go and curse every one of those sick evil people to oblivion. They'd beaten and tortured a twelve-year-old girl for nothing, demanding information she couldn't possibly have given them, because she barely knew anything about the wizarding world, except what little Gavin shared with her in his letters. "Shh, child. You were a brave girl, Janie. Such a brave girl," I told her, reaching up with a hand to stroke her hair. Children find that very soothing, especially when frightened. "You're going to be all right, I promise."

"I didn't betray none of you," she repeated, sniffling. "I done good, right, sir?"

"Very good, little one," I answered, and my heart caught at her query, which was nothing so much as that of a child seeking approval from a father. And I knew damn good and well this girl had never known her father at all, her mother was lucky if she even remembered the man's name, if that. I continued walking, cradling the child in my arms as if she were a valuable glass object.

That was one more I owed the Brotherhood of the Shining Path, I thought furiously as I made my way back to Evelyn's place. And I'd collect on the debt, by God. I was sick and tired of these scum preying on innocent children, and unlike the last time, during the Second Wizard War, as it was now being called, I didn't have to sit back and allow it to happen, for fear of blowing my damn cover.

Like my shirt said, I was the law in this town, and I could fight openly against those bastards. My assistant Stanley was fond of saying that hell hath no fury like a Snape. That was a fact those witch hunters were going to learn to their sorrow. I'd make them regret hurting the child in my arms for eternity, or my name wasn't Severus Snape.

Ten minutes later I was carrying her up the stairs and into the house. Across the lawn I'd caught a glimpse of Hunter Magnusson and given him a short nod. Leshira I never saw, but then you never saw a magicat unless it wanted to be seen, that was part of its magic.

"Sev, what happened? That's not . . .?" Teri cried, rushing over to see who it was I held in my arms.

"No, it's not Gavin. This is Jane Arnold, Teri. Gavin's friend."

"Jus' call me Monkey," she muttered, half turning about to peer at Teri.

"Monkey?" Teri raised an eyebrow at me.

"Her street name. She's a Raven, like Gavin used to be," I explained.

"Witch child?"

I shook my head no.

She was horrified. "Then why did they take her?"

"Because the bastards thought she was an easy mark. Only they were wrong."

"Damn straight," came the defiant little whisper.

I felt my mouth twitch into a half smile at her undaunted spirit. She had more guts than many an adult wizard. "Evelyn, d'you mind if we borrow a guest bedroom?" I asked my host, who shook her head and pointed down a short hallway off the kitchen.

I entered the guest room, which was done in soothing blue and silver accents, and carefully set the injured girl down on the bed. She glanced up at me, her lower lip trembling.

I knelt down so I was less intimidating and said, "Jane, I can guess at some of what they did to you, the evidence is all over your face, child. But I want to make a more thorough examination, if you'll permit me. Otherwise I can call Teri, if you'd rather a woman do it."

"Are you a doctor too?"

"No, I don't have a medical degree, but I've been trained as a medic, which means I can diagnose and prescribe Healing potions and perform some Healing spells. It's a requirement for a Potions Master." I explained simply. I knew quite a bit about battlefield trauma as well, more than an ordinary wizard, due to my background as an agent.

I leaned back on my heels and waited for her answer.

She licked her lips then said softly, "Who's Teri? The woman you were talkin' to?"

"Teri's my sister-in-law. She's a magician too as well as a librarian."

"Oh. Are you gonna use magic on me? Or do I gotta take off clothes?"

Well, that was direct. "Part of my exam can be done with magic, but I may have to ask you to undress when I need to apply potions," I replied honestly. "If that makes you uncomfortable, I can call Teri instead."

Slowly she shook her head. "No. I'd rather you, if you don't mind, Severus. I know you."

"If you're sure?" she gave me a nod. "Very well." I withdrew my potions kit from my pocket and enlarged it back to its proper size. Then I took my wand out. "Before I begin my diagnostic charm, I need to ask you a, uh, rather personal question," I said quietly, meeting her eyes steadily. I hated bringing this up, but I had to know, though I was dreading the answer. "Those men who hurt you, little one, did they sexually assault you?" _Please God, say no._

She shook her head, blushing. "No, they didn't get the chance to rape me, Severus. Their leader, Captain Hawthorne, told 'em I was to be untouched, that I was tainted or somethin'!" Her eyes flashed and she spat on the floor. "Guess I oughta be grateful, an' I am, but still . . .I'm not dirt, know what I mean?"

Tears gathered in her eyes again and I quickly conjured her a handkerchief. Then I gently patted her shoulder. "Of course you aren't, young lady. They're dirt, believe me." Bastards! Lord only knew what they'd said to her, probably made her feel like pond slime, poor kid. "Okay. I am very relieved to hear that, Janie," I said, reverting back to the more familiar form of address in order to make her relax. "Now, I'm going to run a very basic diagnostic charm over you. It won't hurt, but you may feel an odd sort of tingle along your bones. Just relax." I intoned the incantation. "_Medica Exacto!_" Then I brought my wand up and ran it over her, starting with her head.

She shut her eyes, and I let the spell catalogue her breathing, pulse, heart rate, and other vital signs. She was slightly anemic, had a mild congestion in her lungs, and was malnourished and vitamin deficient. I could have guessed that myself, but I was just as glad to have it confirmed. Most of her injuries were superficial, by that I mean non-life threatening and not internal. She was bruised all over, scraped raw in some places, and her ankle had a nasty infected cut on it. The worst injury had been done to her ribs, where some bloody bastard had kicked her, most likely. He'd fractured a rib, according to the charm. It was easily mended, but painful nonetheless. She also had welts, as if from a belt or a switch, on her arms and the back of her thighs.

I winced in sympathy, no one knew better than I how much they hurt. Luckily I had just the thing in my kit to soothe away the sting.

The spell also confirmed the truth of her answer to my earlier question, she was untouched, thank God. At least in that respect. In other ways . . .I lowered my wand. "You can open your eyes now, Jane. I'm finished with that part," I said quietly.

"It felt weird. Kind of like an electric shock, but not really."

I nodded. "I'm going to cast one more charm on you, then I can start healing you, child," I explained, then recited the disease charm, which would check for any infectious bacteria or viruses. It came back negative, she didn't have anything like tuberculosis or strep. I tucked my wand back in its holder and stood up.

"Well, Janie, the worst you're suffering from physically is a fractured rib and numerous bruises and cuts. Those I can mend with my potions kit." I removed several jars and vials from it. "Some of this stuff isn't going to taste good, so just swallow it quickly. I'll give you water afterwards."

"Okay."

"This is a Calming Draught," I handed her the vial of lavender colored potion. "It doesn't taste all that bad, and it'll help you relax. Drink the entire dose, please."

She obeyed, downing it in two swallows. "Tastes kind of like roses and marshmallows."

"Yes. I'm going to mend your rib first, child, and for that I need you to take off your shirt and lie down."

I decided I'd give her the Bone-Knit Elixir after I'd massaged in some of my special salve that reduced swelling and pain, it was a lower grade of Skele-Gro, and it worked quickly and would hurt a bit, which was why I'd given her the Calming Draught first. I'd give her a pain reliever after that, it wasn't good to mix the pain reliever with the Calming Draught, it tended to put the person into a very heavy sleep, and in her weakened condition, that would be bad, almost like a coma. And mixing the pain reliever with the bone elixir would cause the patient to throw up violently.

She had removed her shirt by then and I swore softly at the bruises that covered her torso. She looked like a bloody patchwork quilt. I don't know how she managed to let me carry her without crying more than she did. I took a deep breath. _All right, Snape, quit thinking about revenge and just heal your patient._ I quickly made myself go into my analytical medic mode, which allowed me to diagnose and treat her objectively. I could put my fist through a wall later.

I uncapped my jar of Muscle Repair Salve, which was my own invention. It was one of my best healing salves. Jane was lying down, eyeing me a little warily. "Is that more magic stuff, Severus?"

"Yes, this is a salve to heal swelling of muscles and tendons, I'm going to massage it into your chest, where that rib of yours is hurt. It might feel a bit hot and then cold and I'll be putting pressure on you there, so I apologize if I hurt you."

"Go ahead. I ain't a wimp."

I chuckled. "No one could ever call you that, Miss Arnold." I then began to work in the salve, rubbing it in with firm strokes in an even circular motion.

She winced and I murmured softly, "Relax, child. That's good. Almost done."

I massaged the muscle along her ribcage for a good five minutes, making certain the salve had penetrated down deep. She was quiet, though I knew it hurt, try though I did to be gentle.

"How do you feel?" I asked when I was done, wiping my hands on a cloth.

"Much better," she declared, her eyes shining. "Is it healed then?"

"Not quite. But the swelling and pain is reduced greatly. It'll be healed when you take this next potion, a Bone-Knit Elixir. And this is one of the nasty tasting ones, so take it in one swallow," I warned. There was no way for me to improve the taste of some of the healing drafts without ruining the potency.

She was better at taking medicine than my son, she simply gulped it down without argument, though she made a face afterwards.

"Yuck! Tastes awful! Like somebody's socks."

"Sorry. Here's some water." I handed her a glass.

Then I told her that the elixir would mend her rib in a matter of ten minutes, and warned her that it'd hurt at first. Once it was over, I'd give her a pain relieving draft.

She gasped, and I knew the elixir had started to work. I gave her my hand and she squeezed it when the pain worsened, but otherwise made no sound.

It was over in ten minutes and then I re-cast the diagnostic charm, making sure the rib was fully mended. It was. "Would you like a pain reliever now, Jane?"

"Is that like magic Tylenol?"

I chuckled and nodded. "It is. Here." I handed her the blue vial and she drank it down.

Then I moved on to the various bruises and cuts she had gathered. I cleaned the cut on her ankle with a disinfectant first, then applied a salve that healed wounds in an hour to it. I wrapped it in a soft bandage. Then I anointed the bruises on her upper body with bruise balm. She was drifting in and out of sleep by then, and I transfigured her shirt into a soft nightgown.

Then I removed the rest of her clothing, and applied the bruise balm and HealAll to every damn bruise and welt on her. Most of them were on her legs, thighs, and bottom, and I muttered angrily over them, wishing I could take whoever'd done this and beat the bugger till he begged for mercy, then do it all over again.

That took about fifteen minutes, but then I quickly replaced her underclothes and pulled the nightgown over her head. She was half asleep when I tucked the covers around her and dimmed the lamp. "Sleep well, child," I whispered, then kissed her forehead the way I used to do with my own daughters.

She smiled and whispered, "Thanks," before falling fast asleep.

I left her sleeping, knowing I'd healed her body, but only time would heal her mind. That was not something I could fix in an hour, or even a day.

Now it was time to return to the headquarters of the so-called witch hunters and rescue Gavin, and kick some ass while I was at it.

**And yes, he WILL do it too!**

**Next: Back to Gavin's POV as you see just what the Captain plans to do with him.**


	15. Witch Finder

**Witch Finder**

**This chapter returns to Gavin's POV:**

The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and hearing a voice saying, "Awake already? I wasn't expecting that. Must be resistant to the powder."

My head felt fuzzy and for some reason I couldn't comprehend what they were talking about. I heard the words, but they didn't make much sense.

"Should we give him another dose, Captain?"

"No. Remember what happened last time we gave a dose too soon after the first one, Leeroy? The witch had convulsions and died soon after. Best wait. But you can give him the dominaltride now."

"Very well, sir."

I felt something sting my left arm, then I was slowly floating in a white realm. It was almost like flying, but not quite. From far away I heard the voices again.

"Is it true, sir, that this kid is your, uh, lost son?"

"Yes. The resemblance is rather unmistakable, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, sir. But what about the fact that he's . . .a warlock, sir?"

"A legacy of his mother's blood, no doubt," the voice said smoothly, cold with anger. "And one that I'm going to remove from him gradually. But for now, we stick to the low-grade dose of midnight mushroom, enough to keep him from accessing his devil-spawned gift and yet still be able to sense others of his kind."

"Like Trapper."

"Exactly. We need another witch finder, Leeroy. And what better way for my son to atone for his sins than to help us in our God-given work?" The voice came closer, and I felt a touch on my hair.

For some reason the touch made me cringe, but I couldn't escape it. My body was not my own any more. I was floating out of myself, drifting into the white dreamscape, where colors were muted and outlines sharper. Who am I? I wondered lazily.

"You're my son, Johnny Hawthorne," answered the first voice. "I'm your father, Captain Matthew Hawthorne. You were sick for a long time, son, but you're getting better now."

Okay. I could understand that. I felt odd, like my brain was wrapped in cotton wool. But at least I knew who I was and who he was. I felt a little better then. I was not alone, I had a family. A father.

"Where am I?" I tried to sit up, but a hand held me down.

"Lie down, Johnny. You're still weak and dizzy yet. You're in the headquarters of my work, in Salem."

I opened my eyes then, only to wince and yelp as the light him them. I quickly closed them. "Ow! The light, it's too bright."

"I know. That's from you being sick. Just relax, you'll be able to open your eyes soon, boy," said my father softly. He patted my shoulder. "For now listen to me. Are you listening, young man?"

"Yes sir," I answered, wondering if I was in trouble. I only got called that when I'd done something wrong by . . .someone I couldn't remember . . .a figure in black . . .but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I'd done wrong. Maybe get sick?

"Good. My job, Johnny, is as a soldier. A soldier of God, on a holy mission. Do you know what that mission is?"

"Uh . . .to help people?"

"Very good." I felt myself blush with pride. I liked it when he praised me, it made me feel wonderful. I'd do anything for it. "I'm here to help people, Johnny. To protect them against the evil people in this world. I am an Enforcer, and my friends and I have dedicated our lives to fighting against the evil minions of the devil. Understand?"

"Yes sir," I replied. The words sounded familiar, I thought I'd heard something similar before, only I couldn't remember. Long ago . . .the memory made me whimper.

"Quiet, boy!" snapped my father and I shivered. His anger was like the crack of a whip, it hurt, and I flinched.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry I was bad." I babbled, desperate to alleviate the disapproval. "I'll be good."

"Of course you will, son," my father whispered. "Good boys get rewarded, bad boys get punished. And you're my good boy, aren't you, Johnny? You'll do whatever I say, like a good son?"

I nodded rapidly. "Yes, Father. Whatever you say." And I meant it. I didn't want to be punished. I was good, I knew how to obey my father. "Honor thy father and mother." I told him earnestly.

That pleased him. "Good, you've learned your Scripture then. At least Ferrous did something right. Now, Johnny, pay attention. I told you before that it is my duty to protect people from evil. We, the Brotherhood of the Shining Path, are here to make the world safe from those devil spawn that masquerade as human beings. Do you know who they are?"

"No sir."

"They are witches. And warlocks. They claim they have magic, and magic is evil, a tool of Satan. Our mission is to destroy them. I am a soldier of the Brotherhood and my holy mission is to hunt down witches and kill them, so they cannot pervert innocents with their heathen dark magic. God has commanded me, and thus I obey like a proper son. And you also. What is my mission, Johnny?"

I licked my lips, then I replied, "To hunt down witches."

"And kill them."

"And kill them," I repeated obediently.

"Good. Yes, we will cleanse the world of their foul taint. Together, you and I, son. What is our mission?"

"To hunt down witches and kill them."

"Excellent!"

I felt myself near to bursting with pride. I had answered my father correctly. I was a good boy.

"Thus does it say in Exodus 13:22, _Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live_. Repeat that, please."

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"Yes, that's right, boy. Never forget that."

I promised I wouldn't. I never wanted to disappoint my father.

"Good, because if you do, you're bad. And what happens to bad little boys, son?"

"They get whipped," I answered, shivering.

"That's right. And we don't want that, do we, boy?"

"No, sir!" I cried, shaking. "No, no, please!" I didn't want to get whipped, it hurt too much. I didn't know how I knew that, but I did. Perhaps I'd been bad once and my father had punished me.

"Then what do you have to remember, child?" my father demanded.

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live."

"And what is our purpose, John Hawthorne?"

"To hunt down witches and kill them."

"Very good. Open your eyes."

I obeyed and this time the light didn't hurt. I looked up into the face of a man with dark hair and eyes. He was smiling down at me. I knew who he was. This was my father. My father, who I was to obey in all things, as the Ten Commandments said.

"You have been chosen, Johnny, by the Lord to help us in a very special way," he continued, still smiling.

"What way, Father?" I asked. I wanted very much to help. So very much.

"You, my son, will be a witch finder. You have a God-given talent to feel the witches. You will lead us to them, wherever they may be, no matter where they hide, so we can drive their presence from the earth for good and all. They are Satan's children and they must be destroyed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I responded, but some small part of me protested a little. It whispered that not all witches were bad. I quickly smothered that little voice. It would get me in trouble. Father wanted me to help him. I was his son, his good son, I would not listen to that nagging voice.

"Good. What is our motto?"

I repeated it again.

"And what are you?"

"I am a witch finder."

"Whose son are you?"

"Yours, Father." Again that annoying voice whispered that I wasn't only this man's son. Once I'd been the son of another . . .the man in black.

"That's right. _My_ son. John Hawthorne. My little witch finder." He patted my head lightly. "I'm proud of you, boy."

I grinned up at him, utterly delighted.

* * * * * *

Father told me that I could get up in a few minutes and get dressed. He had given me a uniform like his own to wear, and I put it on proudly. He told me now I looked proper, like a true soldier of the Brotherhood. Then he brought me some food, a ham sandwich with lettuce and mayonnaise and chips. I ate them hungrily, I was starving. Then he gave me a can of Coke, only he poured it in a glass with ice and stirred it.

"Drink it all."

I sipped it. It tasted funny. "This tastes weird. I don't like it."

He glowered at me. "Do as I say, boy!"

I obeyed, even though the taste made me shudder. I knew better than to disobey. A strange feeling came over me after I'd drank the Coke. I felt lighter than air, yet heavier than iron. I kept seeing strange things in the air, owls with letters in their beaks, a strange cauldron bubbling, a small house with green trim. I knew that house, didn't I? But then the house vanished. I felt a pang of sadness. I had loved that house, it was my home.

I shook my head abruptly. No, this was my home. I squinted sharply, and this time the man in black stepped from the shadows. He was tall, with long black hair with a white streak on the left side. He seemed familiar. I could almost remember . . .but then he vanished too. I half reached out to him. I wanted him . . .he was . . .I needed . . .my thoughts fragmented and I clung to the one thing I remembered.

I was a witch finder.

I took a deep breath and looked up to find my father eyeing me curiously.

"How do you feel?"

"Fine," I answered. My head was fuzzy, but then it usually was.

"What can you sense with your gift, Johnny?"

My gift? Oh yes. I closed my eyes and concentrated. At first, I could sense nothing, and I panicked. What was happening to me? Then I heard another voice, soft as silk, whispering, _Take a deep breath. That's right. Breathe, child, in and out. Ten times. Find your center and then open your mind._ I found myself obeying and after I'd done what the silky voice said, I could sense, very faintly the presence of another with magic.

"I can feel something, Father."

He was instantly alert. "Like what?"

"A presence. It glows to my sight."

"A witch?"

I nodded.

Again he smiled. For some reason his smile made me shiver. "Very good, child. Finish your lunch and then we'll go and see what kind of witch you've found."

That was fine with me. I quickly ate the rest of my sandwich. Then I stood up. "I'm ready now, Father."

He gestured, and I preceded him out of the room.

* * * * * *

My witch finding sense led us to a tall red brick house close to the outskirts of Salem. Father drove the car, while I sat up next to him and directed him. My sense of the witch was like a glow in the back of my mind, I could find where she was like a game of hot and cold.

We parked about a block away from the house, then Father and I and five other men got out of the car. All of the men except me had guns with silencers on them. "Are you sure this is the witch's house, boy?"

"Yes, Father. She is here," I said with utter certainty.

"Well done. Now, we're going to play a little game, Johnny. I need you to pretend you're hurt. Fall on the ground and act like you're in pain. Make believe you've broken your leg. I'm going to go to the door and knock on it, ask to use the phone to call 911. This will make the witch come out." He paused. "Is there more than one witch here?"

"No. Just her," I said.

"Okay." He turned to his men. "Take your positions. When she comes out, make sure you've got a clear shot before you fire."

"We will sir," said one of the men.

They fell into positions behind trees and shrubs, melting into the background like shadows. I followed my father, then stopped right along the sidewalk and fell to the ground in a heap. I clutched my leg and started moaning and sobbing.

Father nodded in approval, then moved up the walkway and banged on the door. "Hello? Is anyone home? Please, I need to use your phone."

The door opened a crack.

"Who are you and what's the problem?"

My father motioned for me to continue with my fake act and I started crying louder, so she would hear me.

"Please, ma'am, I need to use your phone. My son, he fell down and hurt his leg. I think it's broken," my father lied, sounding anxious. "I left my cell at home and I'd really like to use your phone, so I can call 911. Please! It's an emergency."

"Oww! It really hurts!" I yelled at Father's hand motion.

She opened the door. "The phone's in the hallway. My name is Annie Richardson."

"Matthew. Thank you, I really appreciate this. Could you, uh, go and stay with him till I make the call? He's ten, and he's scared."

"Of course. I'd be glad to. What's his name?"

"Johnny."

My father entered the house and the witch stepped out onto the porch. She was around forty or thereabouts, with short brown hair and a suntanned face. She was wearing a red shirt and jean shorts with sandals.

I kept my head down and began to sniffle, like I was crying. I could feel her magic in my head, it glowed like fire to my senses.

She began to walk down the porch stairs, coming towards me. "Johnny? My name's Annie. Your dad's gone to call an ambulance, they'll be here soon to-" she halted in mid-sentence. "What the-who in Merlin's name are you guys?"

I glanced up to see her muttering a Shield Charm as the Brotherhood men stepped out from the trees.

"You are a witch, woman," intoned one.

"You are immoral, wicked, and unworthy of life," said another.

"Says who? Get the hell off my property." She lifted a hand.

"You are Satan's whore and you are not fit to live," spoke a third. "Thus saith the Lord."

Then they opened fire on her.

Her Shield Charm was no defense against the bullets and she fell slowly to the ground, blood spattering her hair and blooming like crimson flowers on her T-shirt.

My father came out of the house. "Get her inside, quickly."

The men obeyed, lifting the body and bringing it in the house.

Another dragged the hose from around the back and sprayed it at the grass, rinsing away the blood.

Yet another smashed a window.

"It'll look like a B&E," said my father, beckoning me to get up. "The local police will think she was robbed and murdered. But those of her coven will know otherwise. Good job, son. You did very well."

I basked in his praise. I was glad I'd made my father happy.

But at the same time another part of me wept inside and I did not know why.

"Come, son. Your first hunt was a success. Let us continue. Find me another of the devil spawn," my father ordered.

"Yes, Father." I said softly, and concentrated. "That way." I pointed down the street, back into the city limits.

We climbed into the car and I followed the burning glow back, as my father had commanded.

I found three other witches and a warlock for them before my father decided to call a halt for today. He patted me on the head and said I was a good son and a first-class witch finder. Then he said we would stay overnight in one of our safe houses, rather than return to the mansion.

"Lie low for a bit."

I nodded and we drove to a small nondescript apartment block. There we spent the night. Most of the men slept on the floor or the couch. My father got the large bedroom and he allowed me the other one. He gave me another glass of the funny tasting Coke before I went to sleep.

I tried to refuse, saying I wasn't thirsty, but he snarled at me and smacked me across the face. "Drink it. Now! Or shall I get the belt?" His hands moved to his belt buckle.

"No sir! I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I'll be good." I drank the Coke.

"Good. Now get in bed. Go to sleep like a good boy or else." Then he spun me about and shoved me into the other room, giving me a hard smack on the bottom as he did so.

I sniffled, not understanding why he'd hit me that time. I hurried to obey, removing my uniform and taking the large T-shirt he tossed me. Then I climbed into bed.

"Stay here unless you have to use the bathroom, got me?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good, because if I catch you out of bed for any other reason, I'll whip your ass."

I nodded to show that I understood. He left then, and I could hear him talking with the other men.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. But I kept seeing the witch's face in my mind, and instead of feeling glad, I felt terrible. I didn't know why, I shouldn't feel that way. I had done what I was supposed to, fulfilled the command of my father and God Almighty. _Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live_. I repeated that over and over in my head.

I touched my face, it hurt where my father had hit me. I would try not to disobey again. I really hated getting whipped.

Eventually I fell asleep, and dreamed of the man in black, who held me and promised me nothing would ever hurt me again. But then he disappeared and I saw the witch I had found, falling to the ground to lie still forever, as well as the others we had hunted that day. Their eyes stared up at me, lifeless and accusing.

_Traitor. You betrayed us,_ their voices hissed.

_No! I obeyed my father,_ I shouted back soundlessly. _I'm a witch finder. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live._

_Then why do you?_ mocked the first witch. _Whose son are you really?_

I woke up with the pillow between my teeth, bile rising in my throat. I crept out to the bathroom and spat into the sink. My head was pounding and my stomach felt sick. I drank some water then went back to bed. I pressed my cheek against the cool pillow and cried soundlessly, though again I didn't know why. I fell asleep with tears drying on my cheek.

**Well. what did you think?**

**Next: Severus infiltrates the Brotherhood.**


	16. Shadow in the Dark: Severus

**Shadow in the Dark: Severus**

After I had instructed Evelyn and Teri about what potions to give Jane when she awoke, basically a Nutrient Potion and another Pain Relieving Draft, I headed back out to Rochester Street. Before I left, Teri hugged me and said, "Be careful, Sev."

"I will. Don't worry, Dragon Lady," I said, and hugged her back. I felt like she was my younger sister, which was something I'd wanted growing up. "Don't go out of the house for any reason till I get back."

"We won't. Give those scum hell, Sev. And bring yourself and Gavin home safe."

"I intend to. Oh, one more thing. If Jane wakes up and wants to talk to you about what happened, let her. But if not, don't push her. She'll talk when she's ready." Teri promised she wouldn't ask any questions, unless Jane volunteered information on her own. Then I left, shimmering into my Animagus form as soon as I was behind a tree and concealed from any curious eyes.

I glided serenely overhead, in my falcon form, I could approach the mansion and not be remarked on. It was times like this that I thanked God that I'd been granted a winged Animagus form. It made covert missions like this so much easier. Flying was superb in my Stryker form, much better than a broomstick. And I didn't have to worry about some Muggle spotting me and having to get a Memory Charm put on them.

Although, I had to be careful not to stay in my falcon form too long, or else risk being lost within the falcon mind. That was the one drawback to shapeshifting. It was seductive, being in a form that had senses that were a hundred times better than your own, and being able to fly at over two hundred miles per hour, free as the wind. That was why Animagi were cautioned to spend only forty-eight hours at a time in their animal form before switching back to human again. An Animagus had to allow the animal he became to control most of the physical aspects of the form, like flight and heart rate and other things, though otherwise he remained aware of himself and his surroundings. Which is not as easy as it sounds, believe me.

The first few times I transformed into Stryker, I could barely fly fifteen feet, because I kept interfering with the falcon instinct and trying to control my flight with my human brain. I ended up knocking myself out of the sky as a result, and crashing into the ground. I was lucky I didn't break an arm or leg, though I did get plenty of bruises those first few times.

Minerva was monitoring me, though, and she brought along plenty of dittany salve, knowing that the winged Animagi are famous for injuring themselves learning to fly. I was grateful for her foresight, though at twenty-two, I was too stiff-necked to admit it. Though not too proud to use what she'd brought, for I needed to be able to teach classes the next day without being crippled from a wrenched back or shoulders.

But after a week or so of embarrassing myself, I managed to find the balance between my conscious mind and the falcon's and after that I could fly like a master. Minerva was very proud, she said I was one of the few winged Animagi she'd taught to master flying so quickly. But then, I'd had plenty of motivation, considering Stryker ideal for my spying duties, as well as providing a much needed stress reliever from a long day teaching, and also being able to sit down in relative comfort was a bonus too. She also told me that the only Animagi she'd known to master their animal forms as quickly were my old schoolmates, Sirius Black and James Potter. As if I wanted to be compared to the mutt and the obnoxious stag! Unregistered Animagi who'd risked their fool necks to play about in the moonlight with a werewolf. Idiots! That only firmed my resolve, and by the second week of transformation I was truly master of the skies, the shadow hunter known as Stryker.

Stryker had served me well during my years as a spy for Albus, and it would serve me yet again now, as I circled up above the mansion on Rochester Street. Even from a hundred feet up, my falcon eyes could detect movement and detail. I could spot a mouse rustling in the grass or a rabbit scurrying, for my eyes and senses were designed to detect prey from great distances. I had hunted as Stryker before, when I hadn't been able to risk transforming back to my human self while spying on the Death Eaters. And while I'd have been revolted at eating a mouse as Severus, Stryker liked it fine. That had been one time I'd been grateful for falcon instinct, otherwise I'd have starved or made myself ill. But once I'd allowed the falcon instinct to override my human scruples, I considered a mouse or baby rabbit as fine a feast as any I'd ever eaten at Hogwarts.

_All right, Snape, quit thinking like a falcon and start thinking like a Dark Hunter,_ I reprimanded myself. I circled lazily on an updraft, allowing the wind to take most of the weight of my wings, keeping watch on the mansion. I didn't see any people coming or going, which was odd, for I would've thought they'd be livid at finding one of their prisoners escaped.

Then again, maybe they didn't care about Jane now that they had a better one, Gavin. Yes, that would make sense. Better the wizard in your hand than the Muggle in the bush. I circled lower, until I'd landed atop the roof. Then I walked across it and hopped down until I came to a window. Unfortunately, it wasn't open. I checked all the other windows, all of them were shut tight. Guess the bloody Brotherhood wasn't taking any chances.

I cursed silently, then decided it was time for me to infiltrate their headquarters. I flew down to a spot in the backyard that was overgrown with a large hydrangea bush and shifted back into my real form. Then I cast a Silence spell about me and called my Hunters on the spellophone, telling them I was about to penetrate the enemy camp, and to be ready to move in when they heard the spellophone chime on their rings. That done, knowing my backup team was primed, I canceled my Silence Spell and cast a quick Invisibility Charm about myself.

Then I unlocked the back door with swiftly muttered "Alohamora!" and stepped inside the mansion.

I found myself in some kind of kitchen, at least that's what it looked like. These were probably the servants' quarters, and I moved swiftly through the hallway and up a short flight of stairs to what I assumed was the main level of the mansion. Men wearing green and brown camouflage uniforms were walking past me, all of them looking alarmed or angry or concerned. I gathered from some of the comments that this was the first time their security had ever been breached this badly.

It made my mouth twitch into a reluctant grin. Here they were, a group that had existed for over two centuries and was made up by some paramilitary experts and whatnot and their wonderful security had been compromised by a mere apprentice, a clever ten-year-old scamp with more courage than sense. Gavin might know less spells than first-year student at Hogwarts, but what he did know he used to his fullest potential. He was as gifted a practical wizard as any I'd ever trained. It made me proud and at the same time a nervous wreck, for there was no telling what they were doing to him.

I prowled round the hallway, listening to snatches of conversation between the guards and other members here and there. I learned that the Enforcer, one Matthew Hawthorne, was not currently in the house, he'd gone out earlier with a team plus a new witch finder to hunt. That made my blood run cold, and I wondered who they had targeted, knowing instinctively it was too late to warn whoever it was. I damned them all to hell.

I would avenge them, if nothing else. But I needed to find out more about this witch finder. What kind of person was that? One of us who'd turned on their own and was contracted into helping the Brotherhood? I headed up a hallway with several portraits upon it of stern men in doublets and frock coats. Former ancestors of the damn society, probably. I sneered at them as I went by.

I cautiously extended my magical perception outwards, seeking Gavin's mage signature. All of us who are born to magic have a unique signature, sort of like a fingerprint, and it can be sensed by another wizard, if you are looking for a particular signature with your mind. Gavin's signature should have been easy to spot, here among only Muggles, it should have glowed like a star gone nova to my senses.

But I found no trace of him. Impossible. He had to be here. I searched again, and yet again, and could find nothing. I trembled, anger and fear threatening to overwhelm me. This was not right. The only way he could mask his signature from me was if he was so weak I could not feel him from a distance or, God forbid, dead.

I chose to think it was the former rather than the latter situation. In that case what had caused him to be so weak? Gavin was a strong wizard, he'd only overspend his powers working some great spell, and I knew that he hadn't done anything like that, we'd all have felt such a working. The only other things that could reduce a wizard's magical aura so perceptibly were a strong Suppression Charm, which Gavin couldn't cast yet, or a drug called midnight mushroom.

Midnight mushroom, ground into a powder, was one of the more addicting and deadly drugs in the wizarding world, as bad as cocaine and heroin were in the Muggle one. I'd had my people in narcotics trying to bust a large drug ring for years now, and my brother-in-law John Marciano was heading the team currently assigned to that little project. Narcotics was technically a separate branch from Intel, but occasionally Charlie Brandon, the Narcotics Chief, worked alongside me to bring in dealers and frauds. The way we were doing now. As Director, I outranked him, but in his own bailiwick, his word was law. We'd agreed long ago to stay out of each other's business unless joint cooperation was necessary-he knew how to do his job and didn't need me hovering over his shoulder. He sent me monthly updates on cases and I in turn gave him tips on this or that dealer I'd managed to scrounge up.

But Brandon apparently hadn't known that someone was supplying the Shining Path with midnight mushroom, a thing that should never have happened. Even the lowest wizard criminal knew better than to jeopardize our existence by doing such a thing, giving the Muggles a powerful drug that could destroy us. Such a thing was beyond heinous, and if I ever discovered the identity of the dealer, he was going to spend life in Inferno.

Granted, it took time for midnight mushroom to totally break down a wizard's magical core, months in fact, but even a light dose of the powder was enough to inhibit a wizard's magic for a time. If they'd given that to my son, his magical signature would be almost null. And given that they wanted a docile prisoner, that's probably what they'd done.

I needed to find him quickly, before the drug did some permanent damage to his magic. Children were particularly susceptible to it. I began opening all the doors near me, peering in them. All of the rooms were empty of occupants.

I had just finished checking a small bedroom when I heard two sets of footsteps coming my way. I quickly ducked into the room and shut the door nearly all the way. Even invisible, I was cautious, because I could still be felt or heard. The two men, who looked to be some kind of officer, were talking rather loudly.

"Can you believe that the little brat who tried to get recruited yesterday was actually Hawthorne's missing son?"

"Well, it just goes to show you, God moves in mysterious ways, doesn't it, Sanchez?"

"Guess so, but who'd of thought? I mean the kid's been missing for over ten years and then he shows up out of nowhere? Too damn freaky to be a coincidence, I'd say. Not only that, but the kid's also got that witch finder talent."

"What? I never heard that!"

"Yeah, I heard it from Corporal Richards own mouth, Hawthorne's son's a witch finder. That's why they're gone today, the Captain wanted to test the kid's abilities. Put him under dominaltride and took a strike team and went out hunting."

"Dominaltride?" repeated the other. "What the hell's that?"

"It's a drug that makes a person more compliant and obedient. That kid will walk through fire if the Captain ordered it, no questions asked."

"Why would he give that to his own kid?"

"Probably wanted to make sure the little bastard did as he was told. Who knows? He's the Captain, he doesn't need to give a reason."

"No, but it just seems strange, is all. I mean, if I'd just found my long lost kid, I'd not be shooting him up with drugs."

"Yeah, but maybe the Captain figures he can't trust the kid, seeing as he's tainted with that talent. It's not our place to question anyhow. Come on, we'll be late for dinner."

The two moved off down the hallway, leaving me gaping in astonishment at what I'd learned.

My son was related to that scum Hawthorne. The bastard was Gavin's biological father. And he was using his own son as a catspaw to hunt down wizards. Dear God in heaven! And all I could do was wait for them to return here, because I knew I'd never find the boy searching the streets on my own.

Salem might not be as big as Manhattan, but it was plenty large enough to get lost in and I couldn't afford the time it would take to put all my operatives on search detail. So now I'd have to cultivate a Hunter's primary asset, patience, and wait for the Captain to return with my son. Then he'd find out what it meant to be hunted all right.

I stayed awake for the majority of the night, using a quickly drunk Stimulant Draft to keep myself awake and alert. I dared not sleep here, surrounded by my enemies. And at forty-one, I could no longer pull an all nighter without being a zombie the next day. Those days of my youth were long gone, alas, as Albus would say. I slipped about the edges of the mansion, watching and learning the way the Brotherhood operated. I was the shadow in the dark, unseen yet seeing all. And I waited for my chance to strike back and bring these arrogant bigoted wretches to their knees and reclaim my son from the monster who'd stolen him from me.

My patience was rewarded at last when the front door to the mansion suddenly swung open and a tall dark-haired man who resembled Gavin greatly entered, followed by four other men in blood spattered uniforms. They in turn were trailed by another smaller figure, wearing a similar uniform.

My breath caught. My son was unbound, but he walked stiffly, and I saw with growing fury that somebody had left a mark on his left cheek. Had the sons of bitches started hitting him already? Worse still was the look in his eyes.

Gavin has very expressive large eyes, eyes that flash everything from laughter to annoyance to anger. But now those eyes were dull, expressionless, the eyes of an automaton, not a ten-year-old boy.

I couldn't tell if that was a result of the midnight mushroom or something worse.

Either way, I wasn't going to give Hawthorne any more opportunities to hurt the child. I hit the button on my spellophone, which would make the ring on Brady's hand ring, signaling that they should move in on the mansion.

Then I whispered the charm to protect myself from bullets and stepped from the shadows, removing the invisibility charm as I did so. I wanted Hawthorne to see who he was dealing with, the arrogant prick.

Hawthorne started when I appeared out of thin air, one hand going for his gun.

I sneered and yanked it away with a gesture. "Have a nice time burning and hanging innocent people, Judge Hawthorne?" I snarled. "Feed enough witches to the fire last night?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"You mean you don't know? God hasn't whispered my name in your ear?" I sneered. "The name of your greatest enemy? Maybe you aren't the Chosen One after all, Hawthorne."

He backed up a step, drawing another revolver. "Shut up, blasphemer! You profane this house with your very presence, Director. What do you want here?"

"Two things. My son and your hide," I snarled. I pointed my wand at him, ready to inflict some serious damage.

I expected him to duck or to fire at me. Instead he cried, "Johnny, get over here!"

And Gavin obeyed, coming to stand before him, his lifeless eyes staring up at me without any sign of recognition, right in the path of my curse.

**Yes, I know another cliffy! Don't kill me!**

**Next: The final battle between the Brotherhood, Severus, and the Hunters. And will Gavin remember himself in time?**


	17. Gavin's Choice

**Gavin's Choice**

I blinked as the man in black from my dreams appeared out of the air. For some reason the sight of him made me feel glad. I had been waiting for him for ever so long, I thought. He was . . .I couldn't remember his name . . .but I'd known it once . . .I struggled to think past the blue and white fog in my mind, but it was so damn hard! And my father gripped me so tightly it hurt, holding me against him. I tried to move and he snarled, "Freeze, damn you, boy!"

I obeyed.

"What a brave man you are, Hawthorne," sneered the man in black, pointing a black stick at my father. "Using a child as a shield. And you call yourself a soldier. Pathetic!"

I blinked. Was that what he was doing?

"Shut your mouth, blasphemer! My son is here because he wants to be. Right, Johnny?"

"Yes, sir," I answered.

The man in black laughed. "He's only saying what you want to hear because of the drugs you've given him. The real Gavin is never so obedient."

Huh? Drugs? Was that why my head felt so weird? Because of drugs?

"That's not his name. He's not your son, he's _mine_! John Hawthorne." He turned to me and whispered. "Don't listen to the warlock. He lies."

Of course he did. That was what all warlocks did, they lied. And yet . . .I remembered Father making me drink that funny-tasting Coke . . .why did he do that? I focused on the warlock's voice, which was low with fury, and so very very familiar. I'd heard that voice many times . . . instructing, scolding, even humming to me . . .Yes, I remembered the warlock sitting beside my bed, running a hand through my hair and humming to me so I would go to sleep . . . Then the blue mist swirled and I couldn't recall anything else. What was real?

"Don't listen to that bastard who calls himself your father, Gavin. He's using you, like a tool. He can't even bear to admit the truth of what you are, son."

"What am I?" I spoke for the first time.

"A wizard. Like me. Don't you remember who I am, Gavin? Severus Snape, your dad. I gave you your name, Gavin Albus Snape. I gave you a home, a family. Don't you remember?" I met his eyes and in them was a desperate longing and something else . . .something I'd never seen in the eyes of the Captain . . .love. But how could the evil warlock love me?

"Lies! Pay no attention to him, boy! **I'm** your father, not him!" raged Hawthorne. "Blood is thicker than water."

I nodded dumbly. Gavin Albus Snape? Was that my name? Yes, I recalled using it . . . before that, I hadn't had a name . . .I'd been called Freak, Creature, Boy . . .and I'd been beaten for doing . . .magic . . . I began to shiver violently . . .I glanced back up at the warlock who called himself Severus Snape . . .Snape . . .a name to be proud of . . .

"Paternity doesn't make a father, Hawthorne. You'd know that if you ever raised a child, instead of abandoning him on a doorstep to be raised by a sadist who beat him for every little thing. Some father you are!"

Abandoned on a doorstep . . .that struck a chord in me . . .yes, I was the baby on the doorstep . . .I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it of the damned blue mist . . .why couldn't the mist go away . . .?

"Better than you, Snape! At least I didn't tempt him into evil, with your filthy magic! All children need discipline. Spare the rod and spoil the child."

I flinched at that. I knew that saying, had heard it countless times while feeling the sting of a switch or a strap. _Spare the rod and spoil the child. Which I ain't, you devil spawn. I'll beat the devil magic out of you, freak, if it's the last thing I do!_ Yelled another voice in my head and I saw a narrow pinched face man with a shock of wild gold hair, eyes blazing with hate. Ferrous. That was his name. Ferrous. The demon of my childhood.

I darted a glance up at Father. Had he left me to that? But why? What had I ever done to deserve that?

"Oh, please! There are better ways of showing love and discipline than a strap, you miserable bastard. Better than drugging him into oblivion too. Do you know your son never even had a _name_ until I adopted him, Hawthorne? Not even a bloody name! Now what the hell kind of parent doesn't give their own son a name?"

"I gave him one!"

"Not that he ever knew!" snapped the warlock. "He was called Freak and Boy for all of his childhood, if you can call it that."

"Ferrous assured me he knew who he was . . ."

"Oh he knew who he was, all right. Lower than dirt, a freak that used magic!" spat the other, his eyes blazing. "Such love you showed your son, Hawthorne! I ought to nominate you for Parent of the Year!" he turned to me then. "Gavin, remember your Windstorm? You loved flying on it . . .remember Scout, he's your dog . . .and Arista, your sister, the Healer . . .Fireflash, your friend the bronze dragon . . .Try and remember, scamp . . .Fight whatever drug they've given you, son. You can do it, Gavin. Remember me."

"SHUT UP!" screamed my father. "Enough of your heathen lies! He's my son, not yours! And he'll obey me in all things."

"Or else what? Will you beat him into obedience? Or kill him, like you did the other witches?"

I barely heard them, I was drowning in a sea of images. Snape's voice conjured pictures in my head, wonderful images that battled with the dark ones . . .of flying, of learning magic from a bronze dragon, of an auburn-haired young woman hugging me and telling me she loved me . . .of a golden dog chasing me through the grass . . .If these were lies, then why did I recall them so clearly?

Other images came, faster and faster. I was holding a quill in my hand and the warlock Snape was patiently showing me how to write with it . . ._Hold it like this, Gavin. Very good!_ . . .and then we were stirring a milky white potion together . . ._Now you add the essence of rue, son_ . . .I was sick, and again he was there, giving me a pink potion and tucking me into bed . . . holding me after a nightmare . . ._it's okay, you're my wonderful magic son, and there is **nothing** evil about you_ . . .Nothing evil about me. I was a wizard, and I was good. . .well, sometimes . . . another memory flickered, and this time Snape was glowering at me . . ._Mind that tone, young man! I won't be spoken to like that . . .you're grounded for a week . . ._I winced, and heard myself apologize, and then arms were about me, and he whispered . . ._I forgive you, just don't ever do it again, Gavin . . .I won't Dad, I promise . . ._I felt as if my brain were being torn in two, as I struggled to hold onto those memories before the blue mist snatched them away.

"That was right, they deserved to die. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!"

"And who died and made you God, Hawthorne? How are you any better than me, you who kill without remorse and justify it to yourself by saying it's God's will? Last time I read the New Testament, Jesus spoke to his disciples and said _"A new commandment I give unto you, that love ye one another as I have loved you"_. Do you think He'd be pleased with the way you've been following His Word, Hawthorne? Killing innocent people, turning your own son into some kind of puppet and calling him a witch finder? Oh, how holy you are, Enforcer! Tell me, when you go to church on Sunday, do you confess to the priest how many witches you've killed that week? Or do you leave it out because they don't matter?"

"I do God's work, Snape! Unlike you, you spawn of darkness!"

There was an odd burning on my chest, and I looked down and saw something glowing beneath my shirt. I closed my hand over it and suddenly the awful blue fog was gone from my brain and I could think clearly again.

_The rune of clarity will enable you to see through any illusion or deception, even your own._

Fireflash's words echoed in my head and I gripped the dragonscale tighter.

I knew who I was. I was Gavin Albus Snape.

Gavin, the wizard, not the witch finder.

I felt myself cringe. What had I done?

I had led the Enforcer to my own kind and watched as he'd slaughtered them like animals.

_Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live._

I had become the betrayer. I felt sick, unclean. What was I?

"Isn't that right, Johnny? Tell the warlock, my witch finder, that it is the fate of he and his to die in fire."

I twisted in Hawthorne's grip, desperate to free myself of his vile touch. "Let go of me, you filthy bastard!" I shrieked. "I'm no son of yours!"

He stared down at me in astonishment. "What? How dare you?"

"Shove it up your ass, Daddy Dearest!" I spat. "Severus Snape's my father, and the name's Gavin!" He had my arms pinned, but I could still use my feet, and I did, slamming my foot back into his knee, just the way Colin had taught me in our martial arts lessons.

His leg crumpled like wet paper, and he screamed.

"You little bastard!" Then he slammed me along side of the head, knocking me on the ground. I tried to crawl away from him, but my head was ringing like a thousand bells and I couldn't move fast enough.

Then the wall exploded, and all I saw were black shapes, as Hunters sprang into the room.

"Don't just stand there, fools!" bellowed Hawthorne, stepping over me. "Fire at will!"

The sound of gun fire filled my head and I felt my head spin crazily.

I picked it up and looked to where my dad was standing, glaring at Hawthorne fit to kill.

Hawthorne fired, but the bullet bounced off the shield Dad had conjured. He smiled grimly.

"Technology isn't everything. Shall we finish this?" he pointed his wand and spoke a curse I'd never heard of.

Hawthorne's face started to turn blue and he gasped for air.

Then I heard a voice behind Severus shout, "Time to die, warlock!"

And the chatter of automatic weapon fire filled the room.

I could see the shield around my dad start to give, it wasn't designed to hold up under concentrated fire. He pointed his wand and shouted "_Draco Inferio_!" and the one shooting at him went up like a Fourth of July firework.

But it wasn't enough. There were more soldiers coming out on the balcony, shooting at the Hunters and my dad. There was no way they could stop all the bullets.

I called on my gift, summoning it up from somewhere deep inside, that I'd forgotten.

A shield of fire sprang up in front of the Hunters and my dad, absorbing the bullets.

"Gavin!" Dad called, but he didn't turn around, he kept his wand trained on the Brotherhood soldiers.

I narrowed my gaze, focused my power, and suddenly the balcony the five soldiers were standing on was wreathed in fire.

"You like burning witches, bastards?" I screamed. "How do you like it now?"

They screamed, backing away.

Behind me, Hunters were attacking the rest of the soldiers that had come out of the rooms, taking them out with Stunning hexes and other combat magic and also with several well-timed punches and kicks.

More doors slammed and I heard the sound of more of the Brotherhood coming to join the fray. I stood up, or tried to, and made fire coat the entrances to the front hall, making it impassable. There, I'd evened the odds a bit, I thought, pleased.

But my head was killing me, and suddenly I was dizzy again. I couldn't stand up and so I sat down, feeling my blood suddenly burn with something strange, like liquid ice. What was happening to me? I felt my magic slipping from me, fading into blue smoke.

"Dad!" I called, but my voice was a mere whisper.

I heard his voice, yelling at the Hunters to get clear. "Move! This place is going to go up in about ten minutes!"

I could hear the hiss and crackle of the fire as it raged, burning and devouring. It was so hungry . . .and I could not be bothered with calling it to heel . . .burn brightly . . .burn . . .there were black spots before my eyes now.

"Gavin!" I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Can you call the fire back?"

I shook my head. "No . . .can't . . ."

He swore, then picked me up. The movement upset my stomach and I threw up, but I managed to turn my head so it didn't hit him.

"Merlin, son, you've got reaction sickness or something," I heard him murmur. Then he was moving, carrying me somewhere towards fresh air. I felt him pause, and looked down to see the dying form of Matthew Hawthorne, dark eyes glaring up at me.

"What goes around comes around, Hawthorne," I heard Severus mutter. "This is what happens when you play with fire. It comes back to bite you in the ass. And just for the record, Gavin is _my_ son, not yours. You killed your son the day you left him in Ferrous's keeping. John Hawthorne is dead. There's only Gavin Albus Snape, and he's no son of yours! He never was."

Hawthorne's mouth twitched, but nothing came out of it. An instant later he was dead, and we left him where he'd fallen.

I relaxed in my dad's arms. I knew whose son I was, and I smiled faintly before I passed out, just before we Apparated away in a flash of blue light.

**Next: Though the Brotherhood has been dealt with, Gavin still has to deal with the repercussions of the Captain's treatment.**


	18. Wounded Spirits: Severus

**Wounded Spirits: Severus**

It had been over five days since I'd rescued Gavin from the sadistic evil man who called himself the boy's father. The aftermath of the fire resulted in half of the mansion burning to the ground, but the Salem Fire Department managed to put it out, with unobtrusive assistance from some of the Hunters, so it didn't spread beyond the property. The local papers were calling it an accident, caused by a shoot out by a group of alleged Mafia or some other organized crime gang. They'd found illegal semi automatic weapons and grenades and other guns stashed in the basement and drawn their conclusions from that. Of course the thing that made the headlines was the death of Matthew Hawthorne, celebrated businessman and local, who had apparently been dealing with the Mafia under the table, and paid for it with his life. His death was recorded as asphyxiation from smoke. Several other bodies were still being identified, but none of them were my people.

No mention was made of any survivors, though I knew there had to be some. There had been over fifty people in that house and not all of them had died when Gavin had lit it on fire. No, the Brotherhood had suffered some heavy losses with the death of their Enforcer and others, we'd walloped their ass good, but they'd be back. Like weeds, they always returned, and had to be pulled out over and over again.

But the threat in Salem was ended, at least for now. I placed a quick call to the President of the AMA, who was my boss, letting him know what had happened. His biggest concern was if anyone had seen a Hunter using magic or if we'd managed to make it into the papers. Once I'd reassured him our secret was still safe, he relaxed and said, "You can write up a detailed report and give it to me next week, Director, at the next Cabinet Meeting. Ah think the wizards of Salem will sleep easier tonight thanks to your swift work."

"I certainly hope so, sir." I answered. "I'll see you at the meeting, Mr. President."

"Ah surely hope so, Severus. Give my regards to youah son now."

"I certainly will, sir," I answered. President Wilkins was from Georgia and he still spoke with a thick Southern accent. "Snape out."

I would tell him everything in my report, but right now I was more concerned with my son. I'd Apparated directly back to Evelyn's house after the battle with Hawthorne and his witch hunters. Gavin had been unconscious by then, and I'd put him in yet another guest room of Evelyn's, after cleaning him up with magic and running a quick diagnostic on him.

He was suffering from too much midnight mushroom powder, it was a bloody mystery how he'd ever managed to access his magic with that poison in his blood. Never underestimate the will of a firecaller, I thought in admiration, they were one of the few wizards who seemed to have an unusually high resistance to midnight mushroom powder. But even that wasn't enough to overcome the drug totally, which was why he'd gotten sick and passed out soon after using his gift.

I cursed and hoped Hawthorne was roasting in hell. The only antidote to midnight mushroom was the Dawnstar Elixir, and I had three vials on hand, but I didn't know if it'd be enough to treat him. I gave him the first dose as soon as I got him in bed, it started working almost immediately.

During the next two days, I was at his side practically twenty-four hours, leaving him only to eat and tend to other basic necessities. When I was gone, Teri sat watch over him until I returned. For most of that time he wandered in and out of consciousness, hallucinating frequently, for midnight mushroom is known to conjure visions.

I talked him through the worst of them, hugging him when he cried, holding him on my lap when he shivered violently from withdrawal. The Dawnstar counteracted a good deal of the withdrawal symptoms, so he didn't suffer the worst of them, but he was still subject to fits of shaking and hallucination, chills, and nausea.

I had to force him to eat, giving him broth and oatmeal, half of which he ended up throwing up, but I made him eat anyway. I summoned the Anti-Nausea Potion from my lab at home and gave him several doses and for once he was too sick to complain and just took it without an argument.

By the second day, his tremors were nearly gone and his stomach had settled a bit. Enough so he was able to complain about the taste of the Anti-Nausea Potion again. I smiled a little at that, then fed him it anyhow. He wasn't having visions so much anymore, but he was weakened by the drug and could barely walk the ten steps across the room to the bathroom. Stubborn kid tried, though, until I pointed out that over-exerting himself would only bring on another case of tremors, then he let me help him.

As for his magic, I couldn't tell how badly the drug had affected him until later, for I forbid him to do any magic until the drug was totally out of his system. I prayed it hadn't damaged his magical core too badly, he had only been given the drug for a day or a little more. Still the amounts that stupid Hawthorne had been giving him were enough to knock out a bloody horse.

But the Dawnstar worked beautifully and by the third day he was much recovered, physically, that is. Emotionally was another story. He refused to discuss anything that had happened while he was with Hawthorne, saying only that he'd betrayed everyone and become a witch finder.

I tried telling him that it wasn't his fault, he'd been drugged and not in his right mind at all, convinced by the bloody Captain that he was doing something good, but he wouldn't listen to me. He sank into a pit of despair and depression so dark that it scared me to death.

Meanwhile, Jane was recovering from her own ordeal at the Brotherhood's hands as well. But she bounced back from it with all of her old fire, healing with the help of my potions and she spent a great deal of time talking with Evelyn and Teri, who advised her and comforted her perhaps better than I could've done. I was relieved, for I had all I could handle with Gavin.

My son was drowning himself in a sea of guilt and self-loathing, and I didn't know how I could help him. It was driving me insane, because I wanted to help him and yet he refused to even speak with me after a while. All he did was stare up at the ceiling, barely acknowledging anyone. I wanted to shake him, to tell him to wake up, that it was all right to feel, because then at least he was alive.

But then he would look at me, with those huge eyes, filled with endless despair and my resolve would crumble. I longed to resurrect Matthew Hawthorne, so I could kill him all over again for the hell he put my son through yet again. Death was too good for the likes of him.

The twins visited Gavin sometimes, during the day, and tried also to get him to talk, or even smile, to no avail. I think it scared them, to see their cousin so unresponsive, lost in a world of his own making.

"Will he ever get better, Uncle Sev?" Drew asked, about four days after we'd gotten back.

"Yes, eventually, Drew. It will just take time. What they did to him and made him do, it's a lot for him to deal with right now, and he's scared and hiding, but one day he'll come back and be his old self again."

"You sure about that?" asked Nick.

"Yes," I answered firmly, and wished like hell I believed it.

Teri and the boys had to go home, however, she couldn't afford to stay here in Massachusetts and risk losing her job, so I bid them farewell and told them I'd let them know when I returned home with Gavin.

Evelyn was a Godsend, she made sure all of us ate, and took care of Jane while I struggled to coax Gavin out his depression. She made me endless cups of tea and talked with me while I drank them, telling me of her childhood and that of her sister Mina, whom she had helped hide her magic from her family.

"I think my ancestor Nathaniel would've been proud of my sister, he had no love for the witch fanatics in my family," she told me one evening. "But my father and brother would've been horrified and so would've my nephew." She shook her head sadly, petting one of the cats, Silk, I think was her name. "I'm sorry, Severus, so sorry for what Matthew did to that poor boy. I'd blame it on his upbringing, but there comes a point where you just can't use that as an excuse anymore and Matthew was an adult and knew what he was doing when he gave Gavin that drug. Damn him! His hatred nearly destroyed the only good thing he ever produced in his life, the idiot!" She sniffed sharply. "I helped hide his wife Abby for a week when she ran away from him with her son. I was the one who convinced her to do it, I knew she and the child would end up terribly hurt else, and I couldn't stand by and watch yet another child be corrupted by that evil doctrine. Matthew was a sorry excuse for a man and a father, Severus, much as I hate to say it. Gavin is so very lucky you found him, Severus."

"Actually it was the other way around," I corrected her softly. "He found me. I was standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change when he tried to pick my pocket. He set off my anti-theft ward, and when I turned around to see who had his hand in my back pocket, he unconsciously tried to turn it off, and that's when I recognized him for a wizard. The first words I ever spoke to him were, "What the hell do you think you're doing, you little brat?" and he looked at me and said, "Getting the hell away from you," and then he tried to run away, but I caught him. At the time, I couldn't believe my rotten luck, getting stuck with an apprentice who was a street thief and had about as much respect for authority as a cat. But he grew on me, the little scamp, and now I can't imagine my life without him, Evelyn. He's my son, and I love him and I wish like hell I could take all the pain he's suffering away, blast it!"

I looked away from her then, so she wouldn't see the tears I was too proud to shed.

"You're doing fine, Severus," Evelyn said, reaching out and laying a hand on my arm. "Give him time, he'll come around. Just be there for him when he needs you, Director, that's the best medicine in the world, even better than magic potions. When I was sick, my father used to sit by my bed and play the guitar and it always made me feel better than all the medicine the doctor prescribed."

I nodded, but I wanted to do so much more. I rose to my feet. "I need to get some fresh air," I said. "I'm going for a walk."

"Yes, that'll do you good," she said. "I'll watch Gavin until you get back."

I left as quickly as I dared, I really needed to be alone to think, before I ended up falling apart like my poor son. As I went down the porch steps, I passed by Jane, who was sitting on one of the chairs facing the street, Lily on her lap, petting the pretty cat and smiling to herself. I thought of Evelyn's propensity for taking in strays, all of her cats had found their way to her front door and never left. Perhaps she'd be willing to take in one more.

I shook my head at the direction my thoughts were taking. Next thing you knew I'd be running a soup kitchen and a charity fund for orphans. Black and Potter were probably laughing their damn wings off up there, seeing the greasy git of the dungeons turning into bloody Saint Severus. Ha! Not quite. But I was more willing to admit that I had a heart now than I ever had before, or should I say I _could_ admit it now, because now it was safe to do so.

Except now my heart ached for my son, and I hated how helpless I was in the face of his pain. So I went for a walk, down by the water, it was quiet and still at this time of the evening, and everyone was at home with their families. I settled down on one of the old wooden pilings and stared out across the greenish blue water, my chin cupped in my hand and I whispered, "Help me please, I don't know what to do anymore and I don't want to lose my child."

I don't who I was calling on, God, Merlin, the universe.

But it was Amelia, my soulmate and wife, who answered, coming to me in a flicker of blue light and putting her arms about me. "Sev, I'm here. Tell me what's wrong."

I held her close, burying my face in her hair, which smelled of strawberries and sunshine, just the way I remembered it. "Amy, God, I don't know what to do anymore, how to help him . . ." I told her everything, there was no awkwardness when I spoke now, there never had been. She was my soulmate, the other half of me, and I could tell her anything, admit anything to her, without shame or guilt.

You may wonder how I could get comfort from a spirit, but Amelia wasn't just any spirit, we were a soulbonded pair, and a soulbond transcends even death, since souls never die. You know how everyone is supposed to have a guardian angel watching over them? Well, mine was my wife, whom not even death could separate. I think God must have seen the futility of commanding her to stay in heaven, especially when I needed her, so He allowed her to come to me when she felt it necessary. Which was not often, but at times like these, she was there for me.

By that I mean emotionally and physically, in a way that I can't explain. She was dead, yet when I touched her, she felt as real as I did, and I could hold her and she could touch me just as if she were alive. No one else could, not even our daughter, but maybe that's because she was my soulmate.

Right then I wasn't about to try and analyze why I could feel and speak with her, I was just incredibly grateful I could unburden myself to somebody who would understand me completely. I didn't need to even speak too much, Amelia was an empath, and we hardly needed words to communicate, most times.

She absorbed all of my frustration and worry and fear and soothed me with her hands and her mind, better than any potion I'd ever brewed and then some. I told her how I was terrified that Gavin was very close to being suicidal, and his fits of melancholy and depression were growing worse.

"No, Sev. He's not that bad, trust me," she said then, her fingers threading my hair.

She was sitting in my lap, and I had my head on her shoulder for a change, my cheek resting comfortably in the curve of her neck. I could hear her heartbeat, crazy as that sounds. But I could, honest to God. Maybe to the rest of the damn world she was dead, but at this moment, for me, she was as alive as she'd ever been. And it felt so good to hold her and be held by her, I craved her touch like a drug, it filled my soul with light and without it I was incomplete.

"Are you sure, Amy?" I murmured.

"Very sure, Sev. He's hurting awfully, but he's not going to kill himself. He regards suicide as a mortal sin, you know."

That made sense, raised in a religious household as he'd been, even if the religion he'd been taught wasn't the ideal one, still it had instilled in him a sense of self-preservation. And a good thing too, for how many other kids who'd gone through what he had wouldn't be tempted to find a knife or whatever and end it?

"How can I help him, Amy? He won't tell me what happened, and he needs to talk about it, it's not good for him to keep it all bottled up inside, it's tearing him apart." A blind man could see that, and I was far from blind, not with all of my own experience and my psych degree.

"Yes, but he thinks you won't understand. He feels that he's done the unforgivable and rather than admit it, he hides from it. It's kind of like when a child breaks an expensive vase, one he knows he wasn't supposed to touch, but then he tries to hide the pieces under the rug, figuring mom will never notice. But he knows it's there and every time he goes by he glances at it, and feels more and more guilty. Until finally he confesses and his mom punishes him and then forgives him and it's over with."

"What are you saying, Amy? That Gavin's waiting for me to punish him? Holy hell, the kid's been through enough without me doing anything to add to it."

"So he punishes himself, Sev. By denying himself the comfort from you and his friends. Part of his depression is plain old-fashioned guilt over disobeying you. He said it in his note, he was sorry for what he did and he knows he deserves to be punished. He expects it, Sev."

"And I will punish him for lying to me and disobeying me, Amy, but I'm not going to do it now, by Merlin's blazing hair! He'd go to pieces if I raised my voice to him."

"Then don't. Just tell him that you'll punish him eventually and leave it at that. It'll help alleviate the guilt he's feeling, Sev. He knows that his actions have consequences, you taught him that, and he needs to know it still holds true, even now when his world is falling apart. I know that sounds crazy, but it's a safety net. And you should talk with him about your father, Sev."

"My father? What's that bastard have to do with anything?"

"Tell him about what he did to you, love. You've got common ground there and you can show him that you don't need to be like the man who sired you. Right now he feels like dirt because of who his father is and what he made him do, he thinks he's worthless and just like the bastard. But you know differently, because you were in his shoes once."

Oh yes, I had been. But I had managed to make a vow to myself to never be like the man and I had kept it, for the most part. Except for when I was sixteen and had stupidly joined Lucius and the Death Eaters. Then I'd been Tobias Snape's son, all right. But once I'd come to my senses . . .I'd walked away from the specter of Tobias and never looked back. Not once.

"You're right." I sighed. "It won't be easy . . .but I'll do it. He deserves to know, he would understand better than most, and if it'll help him fight his own demons . . ."

"It will, love. The truth sets you free." She turned her head and kissed me.

I kissed her, losing myself in her touch. "God, Amy, I want . . ." I gasped, and didn't finish that sentence, because she knew as well as I what I wanted. Her. Forever and always.

"Me too," she whispered, and her eyes blazed with passion, like the stars burning far above us.

I drew back, though it cost me every bit of self control to do it. "I wish we could have one night together. Just one, dammit. Is that too much to ask?"

"No," she whispered, her hand coming up to cup my chin. "Are you asking?"

"Who do I need to ask? You or God?"

She laughed, and her laugh was the sweetest thing. "Me, silly man. God's already granted me permission, else I wouldn't be here."

I gaped at her. Then I smiled. "Well, Amy? Did you miss me?"

"Always, Sev."

"Show me. Please."

She kissed me again. "Not here."

"Where?"

She snapped her fingers and suddenly we were no longer in Salem, but somehow we were in my bedroom at Lily Lane. I wasn't about to question how the hell we'd gotten there. Not on your life. I'd gotten my wish and for one night I had her back and I wasn't going to waste it.

Self control be damned. I drew her down with me on the bed and indulged myself in the oldest pleasure of all, and for once I was content, the aching in my soul fulfilled, for I held the star from heaven in my arms and she burned brightly as ever, and for that one night so did I.

"I love you, Amelia," I whispered, much later, as we lay drowsily in each other's embrace.

"I love you too, Sev," she smiled sleepily up at me, her aqua eyes dancing. "You're the very best thing."

"So are you," I laughed, then I kissed her again. "You know, whoever said angels were passionless didn't know what the blazes he was talking about."

"Of course he didn't," she chuckled, kissing my nose. "He was some celibate monk stuck in a stone cell forbidden to interact with women and fasting himself to oblivion. How could he possibly know anything about passion, or angels, or men and women, the poor schmuck?"

"Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously. He made it up and claimed it was a holy vision. He was frustrated."

"I'll bet." Then I started to laugh uncontrollably. "I'm glad he was wrong." I managed after a few minutes.

"Me too. But he knows differently now," she added mischievously and then we stopped talking, for we had better things to occupy us.

* * * * *

I woke the next morning in my bed back in Evelyn's house, feeling better than I had in a long time. I smirked to myself as I rose and went to take a shower and get dressed. A visit from an angel will do that to you. Especially when that angel also happens to be Amelia Snape. I was ready to talk to Gavin today, and see if perhaps my revelations would cause him to open up and release all that anguish he'd been holding inside. Then, once the wound on his spirit had been drained, he could begin to heal.

But when I went into his room to wake him, he wasn't there.

I panicked then, thinking the worst, and bolted down the hallway. "Evelyn? Where's Gavin?" I cried.

"Outside. With Janie," she said, and drew me to the window that overlooked the backyard. "You must have had some night last night. I didn't even hear you come in," she remarked.

"Umm . . .I didn't want to wake you," I said hastily, feeling myself blush like a schoolboy. Me, the Director! I was forty-one, by Merlin, not sixteen! Yet Evelyn made me feel like a teenager caught sneaking kisses on his girlfriend's back porch. As if I had anything to be ashamed of, spending a night with my wife. I quickly turned my gaze to the window facing the backyard.

The two were sitting down on the grass, and it was plain they were having a discussion. More like an argument, really, for both of them were glaring at each other.

"Should we . . .?" I looked at Evelyn questioningly.

"No. They need to talk, or scream, or whatever. Let them be for now. Unless it looks like they're going to start punching each other out."

"Gavin would never lift a finger to Jane," I chuckled knowingly. "But she might just pop him one in the nose if he doesn't watch it."

Evelyn smiled. "That's a woman's prerogative," she said and I snorted.

But we remained where we were, allowing the two children to iron out their differences in relative privacy.

**A/N: So how did you like Amelia coming to visit Severus? **

**Today's my birthday, so please review, it'll make me very happy!!**

**Next: Monkey and Gavin have a rather emotional discussion**


	19. What Matters Most

**What Matters Most**

When I woke up that morning, I didn't even know what day it was, nor did I care. Nothing really mattered to me anymore. Well, that wasn't quite true. I still felt that sick gnawing ache in my chest whenever I thought about using my magical senses to find those poor witches and wizards and then standing by and letting Hawthorne and his buddies kill them. _Witch finder_. That's what he had called me. I stumbled out of bed and into the shower. I felt so filthy that I had to take a hot shower, and I scrubbed myself practically raw.

But even that did not erase the taint on my soul. I doubt if anything would. I still saw their faces in my mind, the ones I'd betrayed, the women and the man, who'd done nothing to anyone save be born with the gift of magic, the same as I had. And for that they had died, murdered by the fanatics calling themselves God's Chosen.

Chosen what? Chosen instruments of destruction.

Worse still, one of them had been my father. The Enforcer Matthew Hawthorne.

I was doubly tainted now. Once by betrayal and the other by blood. The blood of the bastard witch hunter ran in my veins.

I closed my eyes, letting the water trickle over my upturned face, mingling with the tears now coming down my cheeks. What had I done? How could I call myself Severus's son and a wizard after what I'd done? I bowed my head, shivering with loathing. In that instant, I hated myself utterly.

I slammed my fist into the wall.

Not the brightest idea, for now I'd bruised and scraped my knuckles. They stung as the water fell on them, but I welcomed the pain. It was no more than I deserved. I was the bloody witch finder.

I could still hear Hawthorne's voice in my head, praising me for leading them to the witches so he could cleanse them from the earth. _Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live._

My stomach clenched and I pressed the heel of my hands into my eyes. If that were true, then why the hell was I alive? God should strike me dead for what I'd done. I wondered why He hadn't done so.

And what about Severus? I didn't to even want to think about him. What must he think of me? Surely he must hate me and curse the day he ever took me into his home, for I'd betrayed everything he'd ever taught me, beginning with faking illness and casting a glamour over myself to trick information out of Evelyn. Truly, I was a son to be proud of, I sneered at myself.

I hadn't discussed anything with him, because I was too wretched and miserable to hold a conversation with. The shame I felt scorched me worse than a bonfire. I almost wished Severus would force a confrontation, yell at me, call me a no-account brat, take me over his knee even. Yes, I'd even welcome _that_, because God knew I deserved to be beaten within an inch of my life for allowing myself to be tricked that way, for listening to the lies Hawthorne spouted.

But Severus did none of those things. When I'd refused to talk and had curled up on my side, facing the wall, all he'd said was, "When you feel ready to talk, Gavin, I'll be here." Then he'd left me alone.

Alone, with my shame and despair.

Again, it was no more than I deserved.

I stepped out of the shower and dressed, not caring what I was wearing, if it matched or anything. What was the point? Once the AMA discovered what I'd done, they'd collar me and put me in Inferno. I was an accessory to five murders, after all. I winced just imagining the field day the press would have with _that_. **Director's Son A Criminal! Snape Child a Traitor. Hero Raises Delinquent! Gavin Albus Snape-Slayer of Innocents!**

Dad's reputation would be ruined in three minutes flat. And it would all be because of me.

I couldn't let that happen. I'd done enough to the man to last a lifetime. He was better off without me, I resolved. I'd disappear quietly into the night with no one the wiser.

Once I'd made up my mind, I didn't hesitate, I just started walking out the back door of the house. I knew it was Evelyn's house I was in, the cats had been by to see me periodically and told me how sorry they were that I was sick and hoped I'd feel better soon. I refrained from telling them that the only way I'd feel better was by maybe going back in time and blowing up Hawthorne and company before they had a chance to kidnap me.

I made it as far as the bench under the old oak tree before Monkey's voice reached out and snared me.

"Going somewhere, Gavin?"

I didn't turn around. I knew if I looked at her, I'd never be able to leave. And she was another who I was responsible for letting get hurt. So I took another step, hoping she'd take the hint and leave.

I forgot Monkey's nearly as stubborn as I am.

"Yo, Snape, I'm talkin' to you!" she called, then she came around the tree and confronted me, her hands on her skinny hips. "Those crazies mess with your hearing like they did with your magic or what?"

I forced myself to look at her. She was wearing a skirt and a pretty lavender top, of all things. Monkey in a _skirt_? Had the world stopped turning? I gaped. I'd never seen her in anything save ripped up jean, sweats, or shorts. She always said dresses and skirts were for stuck-up little pansies.

"You're wearing a _skirt_?" I blurted. "They hit you in the head or what? 'Cause the Monkey I know wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt."

She blushed and I cursed myself for an idiot. Then she shrugged and said, "Skirt was given to me by that old lady Evelyn. I wore it to make her happy. 'Sides, it's like the only decent pair of clothes I got here. I think your dad burned my old ones or something, they weren't anything great, mostly rags." She glared at me challengingly. "Why? Do they make me look funny?"

The way she was looking at me, I knew better than to say anything smart. Monkey had as good a right hook as any boy. "No. Just. . .different, is all," I groped for something else to say. "You look . . .nice. The lavender, uh, goes good with your hair, Jane." Now it was my turn to go red. Had I just complimented a girl?

"Thanks, Gav." She ducked her head and studied her feet, which were bare. "Severus spelled 'em for me so they'd fit. They belonged to Evelyn's niece or something."

"Oh."

We stood there for a moment, not saying anything.

Then Monkey, or I should say Jane, since she looked more like a Jane now in her new clothes, cleared her throat and demanded, "You never answered my question, Wolf-boy. Where were you goin'?"

I stiffened. "None of your business."

She shifted her stance slightly. "You wouldn't be plannin' on leavin', would ya?"

"What if I was?" I responded. I wish she'd just get out of my way and leave me be. Couldn't she see it was better this way?

Her glare was like a blowtorch. If I was a piece of wood, I'd of been ash in a heartbeat. "What the hell's wrong with you, Gavin Snape?"

"Nothing you'd understand," I replied testily. "Now get the hell out of my way."

"And if I don't? What are you gonna do? Hit me? Set me on fire?"

I went pale at her words. Did she really think I'd ever hurt her? "Dammit, Monkey, just let me go!"

"Why? So you can disappear and cause the rest of us more grief, you dumbass?"

"Don't you see?" I shouted. "It's better this way."

"Better for who? You? Yeah, I can see why you'd think that. It's always easier to crawl in a hole and die than it is to admit you made a mistake and live with it."

"What the hell would you know about it?" I spat, furious.

"Plenty. What, you think you're the only one who's ever screwed up?" she laughed mockingly. "But at least I know better than to run away from my problems."

"You ran away from your mom," I said cruelly.

My barb struck home, but she didn't back down the way I'd hoped. "Yeah, cause I didn't want to end up like she did, a no-account junkie ho. Even then, I'd a stayed if she wanted me to, but she didn't and so I left, 'cause I didn't need her treatin' me like a kicked stray. I may not got money, but I got pride." She lifted her head and gave me another one of those laser glares. I flinched. "But you, it's different. You got a family now, and a dad that really loves you."

"Think so? I bet he can't stand me after what I did. That's why I'm leaving."

"You-you stupid jackass! I can't believe you just said that. That man in there is tearing himself apart over you and you just want to walk out? Like he was nothing? Fuck, Gav! I'd give my right arm for somebody to care about me that much! Nobody _ever_ loved me like that guy in there does you. Not my mama, _nobody_. And you're just gonna give up and walk away? What the hell's wrong with you? Don't you care about your dad at all?"

"Of course I do!" I shouted. "That's why I've got to leave. So I don't screw up his life anymore than I already have. I was the _witch finder_, Monkey! I betrayed all those people to our enemies. How can I call myself his son after _that_, dammit? If you're so damn smart, answer me! Would _you_ want a criminal for a son, Janie?"

"I wouldn't have much leave to talk, now would I? Considerin' I'm a thief," she pointed out. Then she said softly, "You never betrayed anybody, Wolf. You were used by that piece of shit Captain Hawthorne. If he hadn't shot you up with that drug, you'd never done what you did. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was. I never should've been involved in the first place. My dad wanted me to stay out of his investigation, and I blew him off and stuck my nose where it wasn't wanted. If I'd obeyed him, none of this would've happened."

"Maybe not, but if you'd obeyed him, I'd still be in that hellhole, getting beat the hell out of and felt up by that creep Leeroy."

"It's because of _me_ you were there in the first place," I whispered, guilt threatening to strangle me.

"What d'you mean?"

"If I'd never come back that night and saved Smoke and gotten kidnapped by Malfoy, you'd never have gotten involved with wizards and you'd of been safe. But because of me you learned about the magical world and stuff and that's why the Brotherhood targeted you."

"Hells bells, Gav! How can you think that? The Brotherhood is a bunch of screwed up sick bastards, they'd a snatched anyone who they thought knew about witches, even if they didn't know jack. You didn't know they were going to do that, so stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't control. It's stupid. 'Sides, learning about the magic world and meeting Sev and Harry and Ginny was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I wouldn't change it for anything."

"It nearly got you killed!"

"No, the _Brotherhood_ nearly got me killed," she corrected. "Not you or your world. You were the ones who saved my ass. You and Severus. That counts for a lot in my book."

"Yeah. But I still think I should go. I'm . . .an embarrassment to him now. I'm the son of a damn witch hunter, the worst one of all. In case you didn't know, that bastard Hawthorne was my father." I wrapped my arms about myself, shivering. "I'm the son of a murderer."

"No, you're not!" she declared fiercely. "You're _Snape_'_s_ son, not Hawthorne's. All he gave you was sperm and DNA, but Severus gave you a home and a family. That's what matters most. Don't you see that? You're supposed to be so smart, Gavin Albus Snape. You say you screwed up by becoming a witch finder? Well, you'll screw up royally if you take off now, like a bloody coward. You've got everything I always wanted, kid. Don't be a dumbass and throw it all away."

I hesitated. Was she right? "But what if he doesn't want me, Monkey?"

She shook her head. "Gavin, that man wants you more than anything in the world, 'cept maybe his wife that died. You didn't see him like I did, when you were outta your head seein' things and what not. He stayed right by you for days, he barely ate or slept, all he cared about was making you well. Nothin' else. Now if that ain't love, I don't know what the hell is. And he knew all about you being the freaking witch finder then."

"I know, but still . . .if I stay, it could ruin his reputation as a Dark Hunter."

"Gavin, I ought to clock you one! You think Sev gives a damn about his reputation? Because I'll tell you right now that's the _last_ thing on his mind right now. His number one concern is _you_. That's it. You know how many times I usta dream about having somebody that wanted me that much, Wolf? 'Stead of my mama, who told me to get out so I didn't ruin her image with her boyfriends? I never knew my dad, not even his name, my mama said she didn't remember, but even if she did, I know it wouldn't matter. He slept with her for a night, it wasn't forever, it wasn't love. And I was the mistake from it." She stared at me, her eyes bright with tears.

"Jane, how can you say that?"

"Because that's what _she_ told me. I asked her one time, why she didn't want me around and she said it was a mistake to have me, that I was nothing but trouble. So I left, and I'm better off without her . . .sometimes . . .but sometimes I wish . . .that I had what all those other kids got, a nice home, and a family, and a mom and dad who love them . . .hell, Wolf, you know what that's like . . ."

"Yeah. I know. I was the freak and the devil spawn. Back when I lived with Ferrous, I used to wonder about my real parents . . .who they were and why the hell they didn't want me. I found out finally. And I wish like hell I never did. Hawthorne killed my mother, Janie. She tried to run away with me, tried to keep me from him, and he killed her for it." Tears were blurring my vision. "All those years I thought she just threw me away and then I find out she was murdered. By my _father_. Real nice family I've got, huh?"

"I'm sorry about your mom, Gav. But at least she died for you. I don't think mine would ever do something like that for me," Monkey whispered, putting her arm about me. "And you don't only have Hawthorne as your family. Evelyn's your great-aunt, and she's decent. And Severus and the rest of the Amarottis, they're cool too. Gavin, don't let Hawthorne screw this up any more than he already has. Don't let him take away what matters most. You don't wanna be like me."

"Aw, hell Jane," I said, and I hugged her, and we cried, like two little kids.

But after a few minutes we stopped and I said, "You aren't alone, Jane. You'll always have me. And you ought to tell your mama that you were the best mistake she ever made."

She sniffed and smiled at me. "See, that's why I like you, Snape. You can always make me feel better."

"I'm sorry I acted like such an idiot."

"Humph. Yeah, well, you wouldn't be Wolf if you didn't act like an idiot at least once a day," she returned, and cuffed me playfully on the back of the head.

"Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome," she smirked. "So, are you gonna take my advice or what?"

I sighed, scowling down at the ground. "I will . . .but what if my dad can't forgive me?"

"Lord, but you are so damn stubborn!" she shook a finger in my face. "If you're that worried over what he thinks about you, why don't you just go and ask him? He's right in there, by the window."

"What?" I gasped in horror. Then I spun around to confirm what she'd just told me.

Sure enough, there he was, standing next to Evelyn. I felt my face blaze in embarrassment. "Somebody just shoot me," I groaned. "You got a gun, Janie?"

She laughed. "What's wrong, Gav? It ain't like we were kissing."

True. I still wanted to die though. I prayed they hadn't been able to hear us through the window. I considered running away again. But then I stopped and thought about what I'd be giving up. The only real home and family I'd ever had. Not to mention my dad, who was more of a father than the one I'd been born to.

_Screw you, Hawthorne. You're not going to make me an orphan twice._

Jane was right. I had what mattered most. And I'd be damned if I was going to give it up without a fight. I swallowed hard, feeling panic flutter in my stomach. Then I turned to go back inside the house and have a little talk with my father. I felt like I was in the parable of the Prodigal Son, and I wondered if my own story would end like that one? Or would the specter of the witch finder destroy all I'd ever had?

**Well, do you agree with what Janie said? **

**Next: Gavin finally talks with Severus. **


	20. I Am Not My Father

**I Am Not My Father**

I came back inside slowly, my face still a bit red, wishing I knew a spell to make myself disappear. Thank God, neither Evelyn or Severus said anything to me about my little display outside with Monkey. I glanced up at my dad, but before I could say anything, he spoke.

"I'm glad to see you're up and about, Gavin. You seem much better today than yesterday."

"I am. A little."

"I'd like to talk with you a bit," he began cautiously.

"Okay," I agreed, knowing it was long overdue.

"After breakfast, if you don't mind," put in Evelyn. She gave me the once over and sighed. "You're too thin, child. You need to eat more or else you'll waste away to a shadow."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, and even managed a half smile.

I wasn't really hungry, but I didn't want to hurt Evelyn's feelings by refusing breakfast. Dad helped Evelyn make pancakes and sausages, while I called Monkey in from the backyard, she was playing with Snowball, and we set the table. Actually, I set the table, since Jane had no clue how to, we'd never gone in much for that kind of thing with the Ravens, and her mom didn't bother teaching her stuff like that either, I guess.

She watched me and copied what I did. I'd learned from Sev, we'd never bothered with proper place settings at Morningstar, we just grabbed a plate and silverware from the plastic bins and snagged a spot at one of the long tables. But when I'd moved in with my dad, he'd taught me the correct way to set a table and to clear it. And to eat at it too, with my mouth closed and slowly, and to ask for dishes and not grab them like there was no tomorrow.

I put a fork and a knife on a napkin beside a plate and smirked to myself. I hadn't even known there were rules like that before I'd lived with Severus. That first month had been quite an eye opener. For both of us. I wished desperately I could go back to that time, when all I had to worry about was learning about forks and knives and remembering not to swear every other minute.

Soon the food was ready and we all sat down, said Grace, since that was Evelyn's rule at the table, and ate. The pancakes were wonderful, my dad's recipe, filled with bananas and walnuts and cinnamon. I took a bite and suddenly I was ravenous for the first time in days. But I ate slowly, since I hadn't been eating all that much before and I didn't want to throw up the first decent meal I'd eaten since recovering from the midnight mushroom poisoning.

I drizzled the pancake with syrup and also ate a sausage patty. I had milk with my breakfast and not tea, at Dad's insistence. "You need the calcium and the vitamins," he told me.

I drank it, I'd rather drink milk than take that disgusting Nutrient Potion any day of the week. Evelyn asked Monkey if she wanted to come shopping with her. "I need to pick up a few things from the grocery store, dear, and I need a young pair of arms. I can't bend down or reach up the way I used to. Would you like to come and help me?"

"Sure, Evelyn. I don't mind," Jane agreed, and her eyes lit up. Typical girl. Mention shopping, to anywhere, and it's like she won the lottery.

Then again, Monkey probably never got to go shopping with anybody much, and she seemed to enjoy Evelyn's company a lot. Plus, it would give me and Dad a chance to talk privately, which I was betting was Evelyn's original intention.

So the two women left right after we'd washed the breakfast dishes, the Muggle way, not with magic, since Dad said he didn't think it was safe for me to use magic right now. He wanted to make sure all the midnight mushroom was totally gone before I tried to cast spells.

Once we were alone, Dad and I went into the den to talk, since I was sick of being in my room finally, and the couch was more comfortable than my bed. We sat a few feet away from each other, and at first there was an awkward silence between us. I waited for him to break it, figuring he was going to start lecturing me sometime, so might as well get it over with.

"Will you tell me what went on while you were with the Brotherhood?" Dad asked quietly.

I swallowed hard. Lectures and anger I could deal with. That was what I deserved, after all. Not this . . .this kindness. "Do I have to?"

"I think it would do you good to talk about it, Gavin. Keeping your feelings bottled up inside of you isn't . . .healthy."

"Now you sound like Arista."

His mouth twitched into a smile. "Nevertheless, what I said is true. If it helps, perhaps you could imagine her here instead of me."

I shook my head. While I loved my sister, I'd never want her to know what I'd done. "Okay." I took a deep breath, then I told him of how I had gone back to the mansion to rescue Monkey, my fight with the guard who'd been beating her, and how I had listened in on the conversation between Hawthorne and Hart. I also told of the rescue attempt and how Hawthorne had breathed some kind of blue powder on me and made me pass out.

"That was midnight mushroom," said my father. "That first dose inhibited your magic."

"Yeah, but I didn't know that then. And when I woke up I was all fuzzy headed and I couldn't think straight. Then they gave me something else, I felt one of them stick me with a needle."

"Dominaltride. That's a drug that compels obedience, much like the Imperius Curse," Dad explained softly. "It's a highly illegal substance, as I'm sure you've guessed. It was used during the Vietnam War on American prisoners by the Viet Cong. After that it was banned, but you can get it if you know the right people."

"You've used it?" I asked.

"Of course not. I don't traffic in illegal drugs," he gave me an irritated look. "I know of it because it's always wise to know the means and substances of your enemies, so you can be prepared to counter them. The Brotherhood has been known to favor using that particular drug. You would have had no defense against it, Gavin."

"I could've fought harder," I argued. "I just did whatever he wanted. And . . .and I _wanted_ to, Dad. When he told me to do something and I agreed it felt . . .great. I was happy, even when he was telling me to find someone."

"That's how dominaltride operates, Gavin. So long as you obey the commands of your master, you feel good. Child, that drug is worse than even the Imperius, because at least that curse can be fought off, if one is extremely strong willed. But the dominaltride can't be fought, not at all, not when it's first administered. The only time you can fight it is when it begins to wear off. You cannot blame yourself for what you did while under its influence, Gavin."

"Why not?" I cried. "It was _me_ finding all those witches and the wizard. He told me I was the witch finder and I believed him! And when he'd killed the first woman, he came up to me and told me I did a good job and I was proud of it! Proud to have killed a witch. What the hell kind of person does that make me?" I stared down at my hands, sickened and ashamed. But he wouldn't let me look away, and I felt a hand reach out and pull my chin up, so I had to look at him.

"A child who was drugged and coerced into hurting people. It's only natural that you would want to seek his approval, that is what a child does with a parent. Even when it's not reciprocated." His expression darkened. "Believe me, no one knows better than I the futility of trying to please a man who is never satisfied, who wants you to become something you never can be."

"How?"

"Because I spent the first ten years of my life trying to please my father. The tyrant who beat me every chance he got, who drank himself into oblivion nearly every night, and made my mother's and my life hell until she finally left him." He coughed and I could tell that speaking about this was not easy for him, it roused memories best left sleeping.

"Like Ferrous," I muttered, spitting the orphanage manager's name like a curse. "Who was a member of the Brotherhood too, the bastard."

Dad didn't look surprised. "I would have figured that, based on what he said to you and how he acted, although there are plenty of people who hate and fear wizards that don't belong to the Shining Path. My father, for instance. Tobias Snape was terrified of wizards, and he hid that fear with alcohol and anger. That's something I only realized later, when I was an adult."

I frowned. "But why'd he marry your mom then?"

"Who knows? I asked myself that question for over half my life and never came up with a satisfactory answer. And my mother never discussed him after we left, so I never discovered why she chose to marry him. She was fairly young when she had me, however, nineteen or twenty, perhaps they married because she was pregnant. Perhaps they loved each other once and it changed when he started drinking and hitting her. It's the mystery of the age," Dad said with a bitter smile. "What I do know is that she promised him she'd never use magic against him, and she never did, except that one time when she Stunned him after I got my Hogwarts letter and he went crazy and broke my jaw after I mouthed off to him."

I winced. Nasty as Ferrous had been, he'd never broken bones. "Was that when you left?"

"Yes. That was the last straw."

"Did he hit her a lot?"

"When he was drunk, which was most of the time, he was like a rabid animal. He'd lash out at anybody. He let his temper rule him then and heaven help you if you crossed his path. I think I spent half of my time as a four year old when I wasn't in school hiding under my bed or in a closet at home. My mother worked long hours so she could put food on the table, but his only work was gambling and drinking. He liked cards and dice, he played down at the pub at the end of the street. I used to pray for a good run, because when he won at least he was in a good mood and I didn't have to be afraid he'd whip me for looking at him wrong. I used to hide behind my hair, because if he couldn't see my eyes, he wouldn't think I was looking at him."

I nodded, understanding him perfectly. "Ferrous was like that too. I'd look up at him to see what he wanted and he'd say, what the hell you lookin' at, freak? I wouldn't answer, or sometimes I'd just say "nothing, sir!" and next thing I knew he'd backhand me across the face and scream, "Never look me in the eye, idiot! Eyes on the ground, 'cause that's where freaks like you belong." I hated him, but at the same time I wanted to please him, stupid as that sounds. I thought if I did everything the way he wanted, he wouldn't get mad and hit me anymore."

"So did I. My father hated any talk of magic, so my mother and I kept our talks secret, snatched here and there, when he was gone out or passed out on the floor. When he was awake, I tried as hard as I could to be a normal boy, because that's what he said he wanted. God, how I tried to please that man! I never could though. No matter what I did, I was wrong. I remember once, I had come home from school with a science test I'd gotten the highest grade in the class on, and I was sure he'd tell me he was proud of me that time, and I go and show it to him and he looks at it and says "That teacher in school teach you how to make beer yet, boy?" And I said no,sir, they don't teach stuff like that there, and he sneered at me and said, "Well, what good are you then? Useless bookworm!" Then he smacked me and told me to fetch him another shot. I did, but then I was stupid enough to point out I'd gotten the highest grade in my class, and he laughed and said, "Yeah, you're brilliant, Severus. Smart enough to remember fancy Latin names of animals, but not smart enough to keep your bloody mouth shut and not answer me back!" Next thing I knew, he'd grabbed the strap off the wall, and had me over his knee. Of course I thought at the time I deserved it. I didn't, of course, all I'd done was get a good mark on a test, something I should have been rewarded for, but not in my house. I was probably the only kid in primary school that got whipped for bringing home good marks."

"What about your mom? Was she proud of you?"

"Yes. She encouraged me to do well in school, and I did. But somehow it wasn't enough. I wanted _his_ approval too, don't ask me why, and I tried my hardest to get it, but I never did. And the harder I tried, the more it seemed he resented me for it. My mother used to have arguments with him sometimes, late at night, when she came home, asking him why he couldn't be nicer to me, told him it wouldn't kill him to say I'd done a good job every once in awhile. And he'd sneer at her and say "Well, Eileen, I want a lot of things, like a normal son instead of a freak and money to get out of this dump, and I still don't have them. So why should he?" Selfish bastard! That's when my mum would defend me and then he'd smack her one too. Once or twice I tried to stop him, when I was seven or eight, but the last time I did that, he nearly beat me to death, so much so that my mother used potions to heal me, and made me promise to never do that again. She tried to protect me as best she could, only there was no real protection from the monster I lived with. Do you understand what I'm saying, Gavin?"

"You're saying that I had no defense against Hawthorne and the drugs he gave me."

"Yes. Matthew Hawthorne was a first class manipulator, and he knew exactly what to do once he had you under the influence of dominaltride. He could have made you do almost anything, son. He stole away your memories and told you he was your father and you believed him, as was only natural, then he used your natural impulse to please him to make you do what he wanted, things that you would never do if you weren't tricked into it. Did he threaten to punish you if you disobeyed?"

I nodded. "I didn't want to keep drinking this Coke he was giving me, it was spiked with the powder, I think, but when I tried to say no, he told me to drink it or else he'd whip my ass. So I did." I shook my head in disgust. "I ought to have let him do it, but I was too much of a coward."

"No! It's not cowardice to want to prevent yourself from getting beaten, Gavin, it's a survival instinct. Anybody else would have reacted the same way. Did you know what he was giving you would harm you worse than a whipping? No. So you went with the lesser of two evils. You had no choice. The blame lies with _him_, for treating his child like a dog, not you, Gavin. He's to blame for all of this, not you."

I wanted to believe that, God I did, and yet that little voice in my head was pointing out that none of this would've happened if I'd just done what Severus had said and kept my nose out of his investigation. "But it _is_ my fault!" I blurted, the guilt gnawing me. "If I had told you instead and not-not gone sneaking around behind your back, none of this would have happened."

"Yes, _that_ you are responsible for, Mr. Snape, but that's a separate issue entirely, and we'll discuss your punishment for that another time. You were not intending to get captured, nor become a pawn for the Enforcer to use against us. Gavin, Hawthorne committed the crime, not you, child. He made you the witch finder against your will and it is he who is responsible for all the atrocities."

"Tell that to the court, when those families press charges against me," I said with a soft mocking laugh.

He reached out then and took me by the shoulders. "Gavin Albus Snape, _nobody_ is going to press charges against you. You're a minor that was under the influence of a mind-altering drug, and you didn't kill those people. So get that notion out of your head. Hawthorne is the evil one here."

"Yeah, but I'm his son," I spat bitterly. "Spawn of the devil, like Ferrous always said. I hate him, but he's part of me. How do you know I won't turn out to be just like him?"

"Because you're not your father, Gavin. Just because you've got his blood doesn't mean you have to become him, child. Am I like Tobias Snape?"

"No. But-"

"No, because I made the choice, long ago, to never be like him. When I was eighteen, and he lay dying in that Muggle hospital of liver failure, I came to see him one last time. I hoped we might part without anger, even though I loathed him for what he'd done to me. But my mother asked me to try and forgive him, so I was determined to try, it was one of her last wishes. He was sleeping when I got there, and I called him, "It's Severus, Dad," and he opened his eyes and said, "Oh, it's you. Still a wizard freak?" And I said yes, that's what I was and always would be. And he spat at me and told me to leave, that I was the last person he wanted to see, hovering over him like a damn vampire. I told him I was there for my mother, not him, and he sneered and said I was always more her son than his and he was always disappointed he'd sired a freak instead of a real man. And I lost it then, and I bent down near his ear and whispered in it, "I thank God every day I'm not like you, you miserable bastard! And I never will be!" He nearly had a fit then, and he died soon after that, unforgiven and unmourned. Just the way he wanted." Dad sighed and rubbed his temples. "I haven't thought about that in over twenty years, but that was the day I vowed to never become my father. That's why I don't drink hard liquor or gamble or let my temper run away with me. That's why I hardly ever discipline with my hand, because I refuse to be the demon I grew up with. I might be Tobias Snape's son, but I'll be damned if I'm going to act like him. I'm better than that, and so are you Gavin."

"You really think so?" I asked, and my voice trembled.

"I know so. Hawthorne might have donated his body, but that doesn't mean you've inherited his wickedness. Anymore than I did my father's. You can choose, as I did, and you have. When I faced him in the hall, you turned on him, you attacked him. You made a choice to turn your back on darkness, and the witch finder died then, Gavin. And the only thing you are right now, is _my_ son, Gavin Albus Snape, and whatever you've done, I forgive you for it. Now and always." He grabbed me then and drew me into a hug that nearly crushed me.

I buried my face in his shoulder, clinging to him, sobbing over and over, "I'm sorry! I really am!" and he held me and hushed me and let me fall apart all over him, because I needed to right then. I cried for what seemed like hours, and the only thing I cared about was that he was there, holding me, and I was safe, the way it was meant to be.

Eventually I stopped crying and I lifted my head to look at him, I felt like a dishrag, wrung out and worn. And to my astonishment, I saw he'd been crying too. "Dad? What're _you_ crying for?"

"Because I nearly lost you, child. I'm sorry I didn't protect you better."

I gaped at him. "Dad, no! You shouldn't blame yourself, it was my stupid fault. You saved me, you know."

"We saved each other," he whispered and hugged me again. "I love you, Gav."

"Love you too, Dad," I said, and I meant it with all my heart.

"And God help you, child, if you ever do anything so foolish again," he growled in my ear. "I'll-"

"Spank the daylights out of me?" I threw back. "Ground me forever?"

"Yes, you incorrigible brat! But I will _always_ love you. Never doubt that." And his hand began to stroke my hair, running his long fingers through the dark strands, and I curled up against him, exhausted and fell asleep. I was not my father, was my last thought as I drifted off, or rather, I was not Matthew Hawthorne. Because I would count myself blessed if I was like my dad, Severus Snape.

**How did you like that conversation?**

**Dominaltride is not a real drug, it's made up, but based on some real obedience type drugs that are out there.**

**Next: The Snapes return home and Gavin realizes something else about his father.**


	21. Forgiveness

**Forgiveness**

Dad must have put me to bed after I fell asleep on him, because the next thing I remember is waking up in the guest room sometime in the afternoon to Monkey shaking my shoulder and grinning. "Yo, Wolf-boy, you gonna sleep the rest of your life away, like some strung out junkie, or are you gonna come and have lunch with us? Evelyn made some awesome fish and chips."

I sat up, yawning. "I don't know why I'm so damn tired all of a sudden."

She cocked her head. "Maybe it's 'cause of that stuff they gave you. That midnight mushroom crap."

"Could be." I threw off the covers. "You're in a good mood, Janie. What's up?"

"Your brain. It's up there somewhere, lost in the clouds."

"Funny," I smiled at her, it was an old joke between us. "Seriously, you look like you just won the lottery." It was true, she sparkled or glowed or whatever, her dark eyes dancing and there was this air of joy about her that I could feel coming off her in waves.

"Well, in a way I kind of did," she said softly, brushing her hair off of her face. "Evelyn took me shopping and on the way home she, uh, asked me if I wanted to live with her."

"For real? As in forever?" I repeated, my eyes widening.

"Yeah. As in forever and I'm like her adopted niece or daughter."

"And? Did you say yes?"

"What d'you think, dumbass? Of course I did!" She threw her arms around me and hugged me. "I'm so happy, Gav. I never in a bazillion years ever thought anybody would ever give me a home, I'm not adoption material any more, y'know. People only want the cute little kids, not street riffraff like me."

"Not true, Monkey. Evelyn wants you."

"I know," there was a look of startled wonder in her eyes. "Can't figure out why, but hells bells, who cares? Least I won't be livin' in a leaky flat no more, snitching outta the garbage or people's pockets. I never liked that, y'know. I only did it 'cause I had to, so's I didn't starve, know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I never liked it either," I admitted. "I'm glad, Monkey. You deserve it, and Evelyn's a real nice lady." Then another thought occurred to me. "Hey, she's actually my aunt. Great aunt, I guess, but still . . ."

"Man alive, does that make _us_ related? Yuck! I'd don't want you as my pain in the ass little brother." She made a face at me.

I made one right back at her. "Me either. You'd make a terrible older sister. You're already too damn bossy."

"Hmm . . .on second thought . . .if I was your sister, I could tell you what to do,"

"Like hell." I growled, and shoved her playfully. "I ain't letting no girl boss me around."

"Oh? You think you can take me, Wolf-boy?" She gave me a challenging glare.

"Damn straight," I said, then I grabbed her arm and wrestled her on the bed.

We scuffled playfully for a bit, though I was careful not to use my full strength on her. Big mistake, because then she started cheating and tickling me. I was laughing so hard I fell off the bed, but I dragged her with me. I landed half on top of her and demanded, "So, who's the boss now, huh?"

"Let me up, Gav, you idiot!" she gasped, giggling. "You're crushing me."

"Say it," I mock growled.

"Okay. I'm not the boss of you, Snape. _He _is."

I looked up to see my dad standing in the doorway. "Just what in hell is going on here?"

"Uh . . .nothing," I said quickly, springing to my feet. "I was . . .uh, demonstrating a kung fu move to Monkey."

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh really? It sounded like you were about to bring the house crashing down on our heads, young man. Now behave."

"Yes, sir."

"It was my fault, Severus," put in Monkey, climbing to her feet. "I started it."

He shook his head, muttering something about incorrigible brats, then said, "Come and eat lunch before it gets cold."

We followed him obediently down the hallway, Monkey telling me how she was going to have her own room and start school in the fall. "I'm kinda nervous about it, but Evelyn says the best thing is an education."

"Evelyn is one hundred percent correct," said Dad.

I rolled my eyes. "Sure_, you're_ gonna say that, Dad. You were a teacher."

"He still is," pointed out Monkey. "He teaches you, right?"

"I try," Dad smirked.

I shot him a dirty look. "I'm a good student. I don't goof off half as much as the twins do."

"I'll give you that, but you mouth off to your professor far more than you ought to."

"Yeah, well, come on, Dad. That's part of my rep. Driving you crazy."

"Smartass," He playfully cuffed me, smirking. "Kids like you are the reason I'm such a strict bastard in class, you know."

"Sure we are, Dad," I shot back. "I mean, it's not like you don't love giving out detentions or whatever."

"Only when you deserve it, scamp. Which is almost always."

"Got that right," laughed Monkey.

"Shut up, Jane! I'll bet you can't go a whole day without getting in trouble in school."

"Wanna bet? I'm smart, I know not to pick a fight when the teacher's watching," she said. "That's the difference between me and you."

"Think so?"

"I _know_ so," she sniffed. "Girls are born with sense. Boys have to learn it, and it takes until you're his age to do it," she jerked a thumb at my father. "Least that's what Evelyn says."

Then she skipped down the hallway, leaving me and my dad to exchange mutual glances of resignation.

"Girls!" I muttered. "They always have to have the last word."

"Get used to it, son. It doesn't change," Dad said. Then he put an arm around me and we continued on into the kitchen, where our lunch was waiting.

* * * * *

A few days later, Dad said I was recovered enough to go back home, and so we packed up our suitcases and called Flash to fly us back to Lily Lane. I was excited to be going home, not that I didn't like being with Evelyn and Monkey, who now wants me to call her Jane, since her being Evelyn's ward means she's no longer a Raven. "I'm still going to use my real name though, since Jane Eyre Proctor doesn't sound right."

I agreed, it didn't. I promised to keep in touch with her by email or letters, I'd finally convinced Dad to get a computer. I wished her the best in her new life, and Evelyn said we could visit over the holidays and the summer if we wanted, and Dad said they had an open invitation to drop by our house, they could fly down or take the train, since Evelyn didn't drive long distances any more.

We Apparated to the beach, where Flash was waiting and climbed aboard. The bronze turned his head and said, "Well, how was your vacation, Sev?"

"It was . . .interesting, Flash," Dad answered, his tone carefully neutral.

I guess that was one way of putting it.

Three hours later we were back in Jersey, and walking up the driveway. Home sweet home at last. I threw my trunk and suitcase into my room and flopped down on my bed. I didn't really feel like unpacking, but I knew I had better, otherwise Dad would be on my case. I had just started to shove my clean clothes into my dresser when Dad came in and interrupted me.

"As soon as you're done unpacking, we need to discuss your behavior, son," he said ominously.

"What did I do now?"

"You mean what _have_ you done?" he corrected. "Surely you haven't forgotten? Using glamours to disguise yourself, sneaking out of your hotel room at night, lying to me, need I go on, or do you remember now?"

I dropped my eyes to the carpet and studied the blue fibers. "No, sir. I remember." Although I'd hoped he had forgotten. Fat chance.

"Good. When you're finished, I'll be in my study, going over messages and reading the mail." Then he left.

I continued unpacking, though I now worked as slowly as possible. I couldn't even imagine what kind of punishment he was going to give me. I knew it would probably involve me losing my Windstorm again, maybe soap and a couple of swats too. I sighed. I hated all three of those punishments with a passion. Too bad I couldn't seem to behave so I could avoid them, huh?

But then, I'd known before I ever snuck a look in Dad's black book what I was courting. So now it was time to pay the piper, as Colin said, and take my punishment like a man. But I wouldn't mind delaying it by an hour or so. I began folding all of my shirts military style, something I'd learned from Drake, who had learned it at the Dark Hunter Academy.

* * * * * *

But after an hour, I'd folded all my clothes and put my books away and I couldn't put off the inevitable any longer. I started down the hall to his study, dragging my feet a bit. I'd considered just staying in my room for the rest of the century, but I knew it'd be worse if my father had to come and escort me down to his study, especially since said escorting would be done by grabbing my ear.

I hesitated before the wood paneled door, my hand hovering just above the doorknob.

"Come in, Gavin."

I heaved a sigh and obeyed. Don't ask me how in hell he knew I was there. Must be some kind of parental radar or something, like the way he always knew I was sneaking cookies before supper when his back was turned. Like a sixth sense. I wondered if I'd ever develop it. Maybe it was something you only had if you had kids.

I entered the study, which was lined with wall to wall bookshelves, just like a library, in fact it was one. Most of the shelves were filled with magical texts and spellbooks, but there were Muggle books mixed in with them, since Severus has an insatiable need for books and reads everything. He was seated behind his mahogany desk, which had several stacks of parchment, a container filled with quills, an inkstand, and a message crystal on it, among other things. In front of the desk was an armchair, and the study was lit by several recessed mageglobes, which would brighten or dim at a word. Along the walls were several snapshots of various family members, including me, Arista, Trish, Marietta, and now baby Sev. Also up there were several degrees, including his Masters in Psychology, his Potions Mastery, and another from the Academy certifying that he was a Combat Master and there was a plaque commemorating his appointment as Director of DHI.

"Sit."

I walked over to the armchair, my sneakers whispering across the plush throw rug with its Navajo pattern done in green, blue, gold and crimson. I sank into the chair and waited for the inevitable lecture to begin.

He didn't disappoint me. "I don't think you need me to tell you that your actions over this vacation were, at best, reprehensible."

"No sir," I said, studying the tops of my sneakers.

"You behaved very irresponsibly, using your magic to deceive and trick not only Evelyn, but me as well. You also disobeyed a direct order from me and interfered in an investigation that you had no right to go poking your nose into, and you nearly killed yourself as a result. Have I left anything out, or was there something I missed?" He gave me one of his famous glares, that always made my insides turn to absolute mush.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. The disapproval was like a sharp slap in the face, but I managed not to flinch. "No sir." Well, he didn't know about the twins sneaking out with me, but I wasn't about to rat them out and get them in trouble too. Like Jane said, I was no snitch.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense, young man?"

"Not really. Except that I'm sorry and I just wanted to help Janie and well . . . there's really no excuse for the other stuff, except that I just had to know more about the Brotherhood."

"Insatiable curiosity," he remarked, frowning ferociously. "Not exactly a good enough reason to risk your neck, now is it?"

"No sir. I just didn't think-"

"Exactly," he interrupted me sharply. "That's your problem, Gavin. You don't think. You act. Something that can get you killed one day if you're not careful, son. Like it did two weeks ago. I don't know how many times we need to have this conversation, Mr. Snape, before it sinks into your stubborn head. You are _ten years old_, not a bloody Dark Hunter, and not invincible, firecaller or not. It's not your place to go rescuing anybody, I don't care who they are. That's _my_ job, I'm trained for it, you aren't. And until you are, mister, I'll thank you to keep your interfering nose out of Hunter business. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I found that note you left, Gavin Albus Snape? I nearly had a migraine just reading it the first time."

"But at least I told you," I pointed out. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Yes. It reduces your punishment by a fourth."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that I won't spank you this time. However, you're grounded for a month, with all the losses of privileges that entails, you know what they are by now, so I don't need to go over them. That's for your disobedience. For your lying tongue you've earned two minutes with a bar of soap. And last but not least, since you broke my trust by sneaking about the way you did and using your magic to deceive me, I'm going to punish you the way I would a criminal, mister, and we'll see if this makes you think twice before doing something like this again."

"Huh? You mean you're gonna put me in a cell in Inferno?" I stammered. I couldn't believe this. I'd rather get spanked than that. I hated being locked up.

"No, of course not," Dad rolled his eyes. "I'm going to watch your every move with this," And he pulled out a silver bracelet from inside his desk drawer and held it up to the light. "Since I can't trust you not to lie to me about where you go and what you do, you're going to wear this tracking device. That way I can know where you are at all times and if you try to leave the property without permission, it will alert me immediately."

"But . . .it'll be like I'm in prison."

"Yes. Which is no more than you deserve. You'll wear this for two weeks and if you behave during that time and comply with all my rules, I'll remove it. Come here."

I walked up to him reluctantly, and he took my wrist and slid the cuff over it. Then he spoke a word I couldn't catch and the bracelet shrunk till it was tight about my wrist and I could remove it. It wasn't painful, it didn't rub me wrong, but it felt heavy as iron, even though it weighed almost nothing. It had a red gem set in it that glowed with a soft light.

I glared at the silver circlet with distaste. "I'd have rather been spanked," I muttered very softly. A spanking hurt, but it was over in two minutes. This though, I'd have on for two weeks and feel like I was being watched every second.

Dad eyed me knowingly, and I knew he had heard what I'd said. "Hopefully, you'll remember this and not be so impulsive and deceitful ever again, young man."

"Yes sir." I sighed. "Can I take a shower with this thing on?"

"You can. It's designed to be worn under almost any conditions." He rose to his feet. "Speaking of soap . . ."

I groaned, but followed him. There was no point in fighting, and besides, I deserved this too.

Afterwards, he hugged me and said, "Now don't make me repeat this again, won't you?"

"I won't," I promised. "Do you forgive me then?"

"I do. Now you have to learn to forgive yourself, son."

Which was not as easy as it sounds, believe me.

But over the next two weeks, while wearing that infernal bracelet, I did a lot of thinking. About what I'd done and why, and who I really wanted to be. I still had nightmares about the witches and wizard who had died as a result of my impromptu hunt, and Dad always knew and came to sit with me until I fell asleep. But gradually I managed to forgive myself for them, a little bit at a time.

My magic was not damaged as badly as Dad had feared by the midnight mushroom, and I could summon fire and cast spells as well as I'd ever done within a week, thank Merlin's starry hat. Dad was very relieved and so was I. He agreed that I could begin a small part of my magical education this summer. "Maybe school will keep you out of trouble, Mr. Snape."

I had Defense lessons with Dad and Colin every other day, after Severus and Colin were done with work. I also had Potions with Dad three times a week and Herbology with my grandpa and Care of Magical Creatures with Nana. Trish taught me Charms, since she was very good at them. Drake volunteered to show me and Marietta some Transfiguration spells, which Marietta picked up quicker than me, much to my chagrin. Then again, she's got talent in that area, she partially transformed Draco with his own wand one time when she was four.

From Arista I learned Medicine, and also how to take care of a baby. I did a lot of babysitting over the summer. Actually, both Dad and I did, because he loved being around his new grandson. Big surprise there. But I wasn't jealous, really. Because I knew Dad loved me too, way more than my real father ever had. And little Sev was a funny baby, he liked to be tickled and we played absolutely idiotic games with him and acted like he was the cleverest kid in the universe. (Which he was, excepting yours truly.)

I hated that bracelet, but I took my punishment with good grace and didn't complain too much, for I knew I'd earned that and more for making Dad worry that way and breaking his trust like that.

But finally, the two weeks was over, for which I thanked God, and I swore I'd never do anything to get the damn thing put on me again. "I hope you've learned your lesson, Gavin," Dad said sternly, then he removed it with another whispered word. No, I didn't catch it that time either, blast it!

"I have, sir," I said. It was true. I had learned that lesson and one other very important one, perhaps the most important one of all. That love truly made a family, not blood. And I would never be alone again, because my dad would be there to watch over me, even when I didn't think I needed it, because he loved me, Gavin Albus Snape, firecaller, no matter what.

**A/N: This is the end of the second installment of the Dark Hunter trilogy. How did you all like it?**

**I have plans for a third one called Somebody Else's Magic and it will have an older Gavin, probably sixteen, Jane, and Severus, plus Arista's son little Sev and Trish's daughter Beth. It will also have a psychotic wizard criminal who believes the best way to eliminate problems between Muggles and wizards is to murder them . . .by giving them magic that slowly kills them every time they use it, adminstered by a contact potion. Sound interesting?**

**Thanks for all the reviews and for reading this series! I really appreciate it!**


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